#palm springs art shows

[longlistshort]

Matisse's Jazz series at Hammer Museum

Matisse's Jazz prints at Palm Springs Art Museum with work by Ellsworth Kelly

Both Hammer Museum in Los Angeles and Palm Springs Art Museum are showing prints from Henri Matisse’s Jazz. It’s interesting to see the same work but in two different contexts based on the curation.

At Hammer Museum they are part of the group exhibition Sum of the Parts: Serial Imagery in Printmaking, 1500 to Now, on view until 11/24/24.

From the museum-

Printmaking’s capacity for serial imagery was recognized during the Renaissance in Europe and has continued to be explored by artists across centuries and geographies to creative, oftentimes experimental ends. Print publishers had a hand in issuing series, which could be conceived complete from the start, expanded from shorter sets, or even formed from existing bodies of related works. Diverse organizing principles have shaped the serial format, including pictorial narratives, iconographic groupings, formal innovations, thematic variations, and sequences measuring time and marking place, as well as structural, modular, and conceptual progressions. Importantly, the creative act itself is an open-ended serial pursuit, with each gesture, idea, and decision interacting with or informing the next.

While we can appreciate an individual print extracted from a series as a work in its own right, our visual perceptions, intellectual interpretations, and emotional responses shift when we view multiple images collectively: the whole becomes greater-or other-than the sum of its parts. New meanings surface as commonalities, patterns, or differences emerge. Selected from the collection of the Grunwald Center for the Graphic Arts, this exhibition presents prints conceived as sets or series and further considers artists’ informal serial procedures and approaches to printmaking across five centuries.

At Palm Springs Art Museum they are part of Art Foundations, which places different works together in from their collection into groups organized in different themes. Matisse is paired with Ellsworth Kelly in a section devoted to “artmaking through the angle of a given concept, with each wall dedicated to a single concept: pure color, automatic painting, text as a motif, or ready-made.”

From the museum about the exhibition-

Art Foundations explores how various art forms have been produced throughout the last two centuries. It presents a succession of artwork groupings across multiple media and disciplines, bringing together works not usually shown in the same space. Meant to be visited clockwise, each gallery provides a different angle on what we consider art, with each grouping questioning how art is made, why, where, and by whom.

This presentation shifts the lens through which we look at art, allowing us to explore gallery after gallery, the conception and the material of artmaking, and the spaces where it is created. Art Foundations brings together academically trained and untrained artists as well as visual arts, architecture, design, and glass, displaying the breadth and interconnectedness of the museum's collection.

For more on Matisse's Jazz, The Metropolitan Museum of Art provides detailed information on its website.

[beachsandsun-love]

[iamnotoriginalphil]

A Textbook Case of Love (Professor!Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: You're finally graduating but the only person you want to celebrate is missing in action. Perhaps it's time for a big romantic gesture.

Words: 5.5 k

Warnings: Student/teacher relationship, toxic relationship, power imbalance, possessiveness, tattoo, bondage, marking, biting, oral (R giving), fingering (R giving), teasing, swearing, begging, dom!R, sub!Agatha, emotional vulnerability

Tags: @sasheemo @buttercandy16 @chlondykebar @midnight-lestrange @babybeeelle @dontsblameme@grilledcheeseandguavajelly @fuckedupforkhahn @latedawnsearlysunsets92

AN: It's been a whole but I finally managed to write the next part to this series. I have at least one more planned so hopefully I can get that out soonish.

It was the happiest day of your life. You could feel the weight of your parents’ eyes on you as you walked towards the smiling woman. You held out your hand, her palm sliding along yours. Smiling, you turned, a camera going off.

Graduation was a big deal and you were going to milk it for all it was worth.

Your parents had shown up to surprise you that morning, right as you’d been packing up your dorm room. Dragging you away for brunch, they’d wanted to catch up. You, doing your best to dodge questions, had mostly talked about all the research you’d done that year. The shared looks between them suggested they picked up on how evasive you were being and didn’t like it. But you weren’t about to tell them everything you’d been doing that year.

Sitting back down, your eyes scanned the crowd of professors. Your fingers tightened around the curled up piece of paper in your hand.

You’d worked hard, pouring yourself into your final year. Your senior thesis had been a work of art. And the only person you could thank for it hadn’t even bothered to show up.

Walking from Agatha’s that morning, there’d been a spring in your step. You’d been excited, the day finally arriving. After this, there would be no more hiding, no more sneaking around. You could be open about your love for Agatha, could scream it from the rooftops, and no one could do a damned thing about it.

The thought that she wouldn’t be there hadn’t even crossed your mind.

The disappointment settled heavy in your stomach. You knew what it felt like to have that piercing gaze focused solely on you. The weight of it was familiar, comforting due to its origin. Without it, you felt unmoored, like you could disappear into the sky.

You checked out of the rest of the ceremony. More names, more speeches, nothing you cared about. Without the rough voice of Agatha in your ear, none of it mattered. There was only one person you wanted to celebrate with, and you knew you had to make it through dinner with your parents before you could go find her.

“Congratulations, honey,” your dad said as they found you amongst the crowd of new graduates.

“Thanks, Dad,” you said.

Your mom gave you a tight hug, her perfume familiar, bringing up memories of your childhood. It was easy to forget when you were so far from home. You’d thought moving out of state for college would help you spread your wings and grow into the person you were meant to be. You hadn’t considered all the parts of yourself you’d be leaving behind when you did so.

“We’re so proud of you,” your mom said, drawing back.

“Thanks.”

You weren’t sure how to be around them right now. Your stomach was churning with anxiety, your gut telling you something was wrong. Agatha hadn’t said anything the night before, and if she’d been a bit more intense than usual, you hadn’t been complaining. Her bruises still littered your body under your cap and gown. You wanted more.

You followed them back to the car they’d rented, slumping into the back seat like when you’d been a child. You watched Westview pass by as your parents drove, only straightening when you recognised the restaurant you were pulling up in front of.

“You still like Italian, don’t you, honey?” your dad asked, turning to look at you from his place behind the wheel.

“Yeah,” you said, but all you could think about was the last time you’d been there.

And everything that had come after.

It was different from last time, plenty of graduates there with their families to celebrate. You sat at one of the centre tables, so different from the intimate corner you’d holed up in with Agatha. Your knee bobbed, hands caught under your thighs, doing your best not to look over at that corner. You shouldn’t be thinking about that night that changed everything for you. Not while you were there with your parents.

Just the memory sent a throb between your legs.

You looked down at the menu, reading over it. When you glanced up, both of your parents were watching you.

“Everything okay?” you asked.

They shared a glance before your mother leaned forward, her hand clasping yours.

“You’ve felt distant this year,” she said.

“I’ve been busy.” You shrugged, “you know how it is in your senior year.”

“You’ve barely called,” your dad said.

“I told you. I’ve been busy. I graduated top of my class. That doesn’t happen if I kept messing around,” you said.

“We thought, perhaps, you might have been seeing someone,” your mom said, hesitant as if worried about scaring you off.

You tugged your hand out from under hers, your anxiety only making your knee bob harder. Your eyes darted around the restaurant before they returned to your parents.

“The only person I’ve seen with any regularity has been Professor Harkness.” Not technically a lie, “I had too much work to go meeting anyone new.”

“It’s okay if you have been seeing someone, honey,” your dad said.

“Look, Professor Harkness demands a lot from her students. Ask anyone. She has a reputation for being a hard ass. It’s not weird to not have time for anything but studying,” you replied, “I got enough grilling from my friends for not being at every stupid frat party. I don’t need it from you guys too.”

You could play the part of the sullen teenager they remembered from when you last lived with them. Shutting down would only remind them of how stubborn you could be. In order to keep the peace, they’d continue on like everything was fine and they didn’t want to know more.

They’d find out soon enough anyway.

Letting the subject drop, they went back to consulting the menu. You sighed, putting yours down. That same anxiety wasn’t leaving you just because they’d let you slip out of giving answers. All you wanted was to go back home to Agatha and celebrate with her. After all, it was her hard work that got you to this point.

“So what are you thinking you’re going to do now?” your dad asked over his pasta.

“What do you mean?” You prodded at your lasagna, knowing you should eat more, that if Agatha had been beside you it would have been easy to eat.

“Now you have your degree. You know your room is waiting for you back home,” he said.

“Oh. Right. That,” you said.

Truth was, you hadn’t thought about it much. All you knew was there was no chance in hell you were moving back home. Not while Agatha was still in Westview. Your plan extended just as far as Agatha. She was your future. That was all you knew.

“Do you have a job lined up?” your mom asked.

“Not yet.” You pushed some of your food around your plate, “I’m waiting to hear back on some things.”

Namely, what Agatha thought you should do.

“Well, you can wait with us back home. You’ll have no where to go after you move out of your dorm,” your mom said.

“Don’t worry about that. I have a place to stay and it’s better if I stay in town. You never know when you’ll get the call, right?” you replied, “seriously guys, I’ve got this.”

“You’ve worked so hard. You should be allowed to relax now,” your mom said.

“Honey, we’re worried you’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re going to burn yourself out if you don’t take some time to relax,” your dad said.

“You guys practiced this conversation, didn’t you?” You stabbed a piece of pasta, “seriously, I’m fine.”

“You didn’t even come home for Christmas,” your dad said.

“Because I had too much work. I wouldn’t have been any fun if I had,” you said.

“We missed you,” your mum said.

“I missed you guys too. But it was worth it,” you said.

“Top of your class,” your dad said with a small nod of his head. The pride was obvious in his voice.

“So stop worrying about me. I’ve got it all under control,” you said.

They let it drop for the rest of the night. You got the creme brûlée and thought about Agatha with each bite. One day, when your parents weren’t around, you’d taste it from her lips again. You were already dreaming about that day.

Your parents dropped you off at your dorm, your last night there. If you had any say, you wouldn’t be sleeping there. Texting Agatha, you sat on your stripped mattress, a thin single you had no interest in with questionable stains, waiting to hear from her.

You didn’t get a response.

That same anxiety was bubbling away in your gut again. Pacing the room, you stared at the boxes you had packed that day. Four years of your life packed up into a handful of boxes. It seemed so small that way, your life nothing more than the possessions you’d collected over the years. But your life was so much bigger than could be contained in the shoebox of a dorm room you’d been placed in.

Tugging on the sweater you’d worn when you’d left Agatha’s that morning, you snatched up your phone and your keys. A reckless idea had entered your mind. The kind of idea that you thought could end badly, but could end so very well. You were a gambling woman, and you were hoping the pay out would be high on this one.

Later that night, later than was appropriate for a social call, you rang Agatha’s doorbell. The night air had cooled, the wind bitter. You knocked. The house had been dark when you’d shown up, all except for one window. Upstairs, Agatha’s bedroom was bathed in soft light. You knocked again.

“What?” Agatha snarled as she opened the door.

“You weren’t at my graduation today,” you said, “I was very disappointed.”

You pouted, leaning against the doorframe. She growled, stepped back, right into the shadows of the house. Your eyes swept over her. You loved when she wore the robe, the one that clung to her curves and showed off enough skin to make your mouth water.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“See, I lose my place in the dorms tomorrow. I’m not a student anymore. And I have no where to go,” you said.

“And what am I meant to do about that?” she asked.

“Well, I was hoping you might let me stay with you,” you said, keeping your voice light, “it’s not as if I wasn’t practically living here anyway.”

“And why would I let you do that?” she snarled.

“Because I’ve brought you such a nice present to thank you for being the best professor at the college,” you said, “I would have never done so well if it wasn’t for you.”

“You looking for one last fuck for the road?” she asked, stepping back again.

“You ending things with me?” You tried to make it sound like you didn’t care, but your entire body tensed for the blow of rejection that would undo you.

“You’ll be moving on now. And I have a policy. No letting wanton sluts in when they’ll just disappear on me,” she said.

“I’m not disappearing,” you said, “in fact, I’d quite like to stay as long as you’ll have me.”

“Right,” she scoffed.

“You know, my parents asked me to move back home tonight. I said no. And when they asked me what my plans were for the future I only had one,” you said, “you.”

Her eyes swept over you, lingering for a moment on your face. She shook her head but stepped back again.

“Come on then, pet.”

She turned her back on you, wandering further into the house. You grinned, turning to grab your stuff, leaving most of it in the front entrance to be dealt with when it wasn’t the middle of the night. Agatha had disappeared somewhere into the house in the few minutes you’d managed to keep your eye off her.

You closed and locked the front door, the way you had so many times before. Taking the stairs two at a time, you went hunting. If this was some kind of game you intended to win. And your prize was going to be Agatha.

Turns out, you didn’t have to look far. She was lounging on the bed, her glasses resting on the end of her nose, a book resting in her long fingers. Her legs were crossed at the ankle and when she looked up at you, you froze.

“Why didn’t you come today?” you asked.

That same anxiety was back. Perhaps this was her ending things. Perhaps Rio had been right and your relationship had a deadline you didn’t even realise. Built in, the moment you graduated, the entire thing was over. Agatha could throw you out without a second thought.

Maybe she was done with you.

“Can’t you handle yourself if I’m not constantly with you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I thought we would celebrate together,” you said.

“What’s there to celebrate?” Her smile turned razor sharp, “you graduated. Plenty of people do. You’re nothing special.”

It hurt, her cruelty, but you gritted your teeth and stepped forward.

“I’m special because I’m yours,” you said.

Something shifted in her face. She lent forward, those eyes dragging over your body again, tongue slow as it ran along her lower lip. You shivered, but held your ground. You would stay there as long as she needed.

She rolled her eyes and lent back again, eyes returning to her book.

You waited, being her good girl. Whatever she was thinking, whatever game this was, you were determined to get your prize. She continued ignoring you.

“Don’t you want to see your present?” you asked when the silence grew too long it made you itch.

“If you must,” she said, still not looking up.

Grasping the bottom of the sweater you’d taken from her, you tossed it onto the bed. Her eyes flicked to it then back to her book. Your tank top was next, landing on her foot. She kicked it aside. Your bra landed in her lap.

Her eyes finally dragged up to you. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip as you turned, lifting your arm to show her your ribs. Her sharp inhale was everything you’d hoped it would be.

“Do you like you present?” you asked, doing your best to sound innocent as you asked.

The bed creaked. Fingertips ran over your skin, tracing the letters you’d had inked into your skin. You trembled under her touch.

“Get bored with a pen, did you, pet?” she asked.

“I went and found one of those tattoo parlours open all night. When they asked me who Agatha was, I told them she’s the woman I’m going to spend my life with,” you said, not bothering to tell her that you’d been advised against getting a lover’s name tattooed on your body, “your name will be on me forever because that’s how long I’m going to love you.”

Her fingernails dug into your skin, framing the word you’d had put on your body. It made sense, given she had sunk beneath your skin and was never leaving. She was as much a part of you as your own heart.

“You love me?” she asked, her voice a rasp.

You looked down at her, a hand cupping her cheek, the other tangling in her hair the way you loved to do. Blue eyes swam with something, so beautiful and so heartbreaking. You lent forward until your forehead pressed to hers.

“I do. I love you,” you said.

Her lips pressed to yours, desperate and needy. You bent over her, kissing her back just as desperately, the anxiety finally soothing in your stomach. There was no chance she was ending things when she was dragging you down, her tongue in your mouth, her fingers grasping you hard enough to hurt. You hummed, pushing her back, laying her back on the mattress.

“I’ll be with you forever,” you said before your lips trailed down her throat.

She whimpered, a surprisingly vulnerable sound from her. Your tongue tasted her skin before you sucked on her pulse point. Her head tilted back, giving you more access as her nails scraped down your back.

Your fingers played with the tie of her robe, her body warm beneath you. She made such a soft noise as you dragged your mouth lower, nipping at her collarbone, tongue dipping into the divot between. Her nails dug in to the skin of your back, points of pain only making you pant against her skin.

“What are you doing, kitten?” she asked, voice soft as you laved attention on her body.

“Showing you how much I love you,” you replied, lips brushing skin as you whispered the words, “let me show you. Let me take care of you for once.”

Your eyes met hers. The hesitation was obvious. If there was one thing you knew about Agatha Harkness, it was that she hated giving up control. But all you wanted to do was make her feel good. Prove that she should keep you around forever. That you weren’t going anywhere. That she was yours as much as you were hers. That your name should be inked onto her skin too.

Her fingertips ran over your cheekbone before she nodded. You grinned, lowering your mouth back to her skin as your fingers pulled the knot free. Silk slipped either side of her body, baring her to you. You might have had her sitting on your face the night before, but you would never grow tired of seeing her naked body. She was beautiful, a piece of poetry spread out on the mattress for your eyes only.

You were slow as you dragged your hands up over her ribs, cupping her breasts. She sighed, a soft noise, arching into your touch. You spent so much time there, kissing and licking at her skin. She writhed beneath you, softly mewling. When her hands tried to guide you lower, you caught them.

Her growl as you tied them above her head only made you smile.

“Do you want to tell me why you missed my graduation?” you asked, fingers pinching at her nipples.

She moaned, pressing further into your touch, but not answering your questions. You let it go, wanting to assuage your anxiety by making her cum on your tongue. Further proof that she was yours, completely and utterly.

You sucked a slow hickey into the skin on her hip, feeling her wriggle beneath you. With her tied up, and her consent to take care of her, you were going to take your time with her. You were in control this time. She was going to be moaning your name until she forget any other words.

Your fingers were gentle as the dragged up her legs, finding the soft skin of her inner thigh. Your lips wrapped around one nipple, tongue flicking over it. She huffed, but her body was arching towards you, offering herself so nicely for your touch. You hummed, muffled against her skin, feeling her breath catch.

You grasped her thighs, parting them to slot yourself between them. Hovering over her, you took a moment to gaze on her. Squirming, her eyes were hooded, lips parted, cheeks flushed. Blue eyes watched you, smouldering, and you grinned.

“Do you understand how beautiful you are?” you murmured, thumb digging into the crease of her hip.

Her legs fell further open, welcoming you in, urging you closer. You slid further down her body, lips pressing to soft skin, feeling the way her muscles flexed under you. Your tongue tasted the salt on her skin, revelling in her warmth, in how wonderful it felt to get your mouth on her.

“Relax,” you murmured, “let me take care of you.”

She grumbled, but with your hands stroking over her skin, she began to relax under your touch. You wanted to feel her melt into the mattress, to let you take control, to make her feel the way she made you feel. Safe, taken care of, satiated.

Your fingers slid through her folds, feeling her wetness gathering on your fingertips. Her hips pressed up towards you, a wordless command. With your free hand, you pinned her down, exploring her without giving her quite what she wanted. You were going to make her desperate for you. You might even get her to beg.

That would be fun.

Your finger was slow to circle her clit, watching the way her face flushed, the way her breath stuttered, the way her fingers clenched above her head. There was something so lovely about the way her face contorted in pleasure. You would paint a picture of it, hang it in every room you were in, gaze upon it.

“Pet, stop teasing,” she commanded.

“Uh uh,” you said, “you’re not in charge anymore, Professor Harkness.”

The way her legs tightened around you was interesting.

“You like that, huh? You like being fucked by your student? You like when I turn the tables on you?”

Your lips brushed against the skin of her stomach, feeling the muscles jump.

“Want me to call you Professor Harkness as I’m knuckles deep inside you?” you murmured.

The noise she made was delicious.

“I wish they could all see this,” you said, finger resting at her entrance, “see the formidable Professor Harkness begging to be fucked by her star pupil.”

“I’m not.” Her breath caught, “I’m not begging.”

“Not yet,” you promised.

Your tongue ran through her folds, groaning at her taste. Her hips jumped towards your mouth. Your hands slid up her legs, holding them open, hands grasping hard enough to leave bruises on her pretty pale skin. You loved the thought of your handprints on her skin for anyone to see.

Your tongue circle over her clit. Your name was command, but it was shaky. You ignored it, finger dipping into her entrance. Pressing your tongue against her clit, you let her grind against your face for a moment, just long enough to let her think she’d gotten her way.

Your finger pushed in as you drew away. Your teeth sunk into her inner thigh, soft skin sweet on your lips. Her keening noise was beautiful, a symphony to your ears.

“Do you think they’d get a kick out of this? Watching their professor squirm?” you asked her, “do you think they’d like to know you you’re nothing but a desperate little thing?”

“Shut up,” she growled.

“That doesn’t sound like someone who wants to cum,” you said.

You took your hand from between her legs, using the grip on her legs to keep them open, her hot cunt exposed to your gaze. She glistened in the soft light, so pretty, so beautiful.

“If you want to, beg,” you told her, “or don’t you want this, Professor Harkness?”

She glared at you, blue eyes flashing. You waited, having learnt patience at her hand. She’d taught you plenty of lessons during the last year. Now it was time to show her through a practical demonstration.

“Please,” she said eventually, through gritted teeth, jaw tense.

“Tell me, Professor,” you said, leaning forward again, breath ghosting over her glistening folds, “do you think any of them would find you terrifying after seeing you like this?”

Your lips wrapped around her clit before she could say anything, her sass unnecessary when all you wanted was to ruin her. Your name was sweet on her lips as she moaned, hips bucking up into your mouth. You let her, figuring it was time for her to get a little bit more. Just enough to take the edge off. Just enough to drive her crazy.

Your fingers were slow to push into her. Her whimper was so delicious you wanted to drink it in. You hummed, her legs tightening around your head, thighs trying to clamp down on you. Your free hand pried them open again, giving yourself more room.

“Do you think your students would like to know how pretty you look when you’re all whiney and desperate for me?” you asked, fingers curling inside her.

“Don’t be a brat,” she hissed.

“I bet they’d love to know the great Professor Harkness loves being tied up and fucked by her star pupil. I’m sure they’d enjoy watching you come undone so easily by someone just like them,” you said.

“You’re nothing like them,” she ground out.

“No, because none of them will ever get the chance to touch you like this.” Your palm ground against her clit, “none of them will ever know how sweet you taste.”

“Never,” she gasped.

You curled your fingers again, rewarding her. Your name fell from her lips, a whine unlike anything you’d ever heard from her before. A rush of power went through you, heady and addictive. To have a woman like this desperate for you, letting you do this for her, willing to be yours completely and utterly.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmured.

Her shape inhale made you you grin against the skin of her hipbone. Your teeth nipped at her, your chuckle lost in the loud moan low in her throat, straining against her restraints. Your lips returned to her clit, sucking gently. Her hips pressed up into your mouth.

You felt as her internal walls began to flutter around your fingers. Curling and twisting your fingers, you sucked harshly until she clamped down on you. You eased her through it, slowing your thrusts until she went limp against the mattress. Your tongue lapped at her, cleaning her up. The soft noise she made, shifting underneath you, was delicious.

You drew back, sitting on your heels as you stared down at her. Her eyes were hooded, a lazy smile on her face as she looked back at you. Crawling up her body, you kissed her, letting her taste herself on your tongue. You were careful as you untied her wrists, gently rubbing at them, helping the blood flow back into her fingers.

“Proud of yourself, pet?” she asked.

You sat beside her, leaning back against the headboard, pulling her body against you. Your fingers played with the ends of her hair, wild and dark and wonderful. Your lips pressed to her forehead.

“Very proud,” you said, “mainly because I’m yours.”

She chuckled, but she pressed closer, bare skin against bare skin. You shimmied out of your shorts, kicking them off the bed. Her legs tangled with yours, half draped over you.

“You were really going to let me walk out and never see you again?” you asked.

“I’m not desperate enough to beg you to stay,” she replied.

“You wouldn’t fight for me?” You were surprised by how much that thought hurt.

“I know how that ends. Everyone leaves me,” she said.

Her face pressed into the crook of your neck, hidden from view. Agatha had never been one to indulge in self pity but you couldn’t ignore the tone of her voice. Your hand stroked down her spine, feeling her wiggle closer.

“I won’t,” you said, “I won’t ever leave you.”

The soft noise she made had your heart squeezing painfully. You tightened your arms around her, wanting to absorb her into your being, not able to get close enough.

“I should have been there today,” she said, lips brushing your skin with every word whispered.

“Yes, you should have,” you said.

“I wanted to be there but…” She emerged to look at you, lifting herself enough to stare right into your eyes, “I didn’t want to watch the moment you realised you got exactly what you wanted from me and had no use for me anymore.”

“That’s never going to happen,” you said.

Her eyes dragged down your body again, focusing on the dark ink on your skin, her name a part of you now. Dragging her fingertip over it, tracing each letter like it was something precious, you watched her tongue drag along her lower lip. You rolled, giving her more access to the tattoo.

“I’m yours completely,” you said, voice soft, “I can’t live without you, Agatha. Please don’t send me away. The only place I want to be is wherever you are.”

With anyone else, it would be too intense of a thing to say, but everything with Agatha was intense. Every moment, every feeling, every sentiment. It was overwhelming, all consuming, and everything you wanted. She was everything you wanted.

“How did I get so lucky to find you?” she asked, voice so full of awe.

“You must have been a very good girl,” you said said, grinning at her.

Her nails dragged over your skin before she pinched you, right beneath your new ink. You laughed, pulling her down onto you. It was muffled against her lips as she kissed you. She climbed onto you, straddling your waist. Her fingers splayed over your ribs, keeping contact with your tattoo as her tongue delved into your mouth.

“I want you here with me,” she whispered against your lips as if it was a confession, one that could not be spoken in the harsh light of day.

Your hands ran up her bare thighs before you gripped her hips. She drew back, her hair a curtain between you and the rest of the world. You gazed up at her, so full of something you couldn’t put into words, burning as bright as the stars and as breathtaking as the coldest winter air. Her hand tightened over your ribs, almost bruising as she stared down at you.

“Then I’m going nowhere,” you said.

You waited for her to assess you, those blue eyes darting over your face as if looking for falsehoods. It wasn’t the first time, her assessing gaze familiar to you. It broke your heart that she was constantly on the lookout for lies, that she had been taught everyone would lie to her, that people wanted to hurt her.

You would make every single one of them feel the pain they’d caused her tenfold.

“You’re sure?” she asked.

Your hands cupped her face, gentle and yet demanding. You wanted her looking at you as you told her what she needed to hear, no hiding behind her hair or behind a book. No deflecting. No ability to brush it off.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. You’re the only thing that matters in the world. Everything else can burn as long as you remain. My life means nothing without you. You’re all I see,” you said.

Her face broke open into something you hadn’t seen before. Hope and longing and something so soft your heart ached. This wasn’t the fierce Professor Harkness you’d heard about, nor the dismissive woman you’d met all those months ago. Gone were the spikes and self defence and sharp tongue. You thought this might be the real woman under the harsh exterior. Someone desperate to be loved but who had been hurt over and over again until her scars were all she could see.

You’d never loved her more.

“I love you,” she breathed out, her face full of wonder and surprise, and a touch of anxiety as if bracing for her words to be what ended your own feelings.

Instead, your ribcage cracked open, your heart growing in ways you hadn’t thought it could. You’d thought she might love you, her actions enough to give you hope, but to hear the words on her own lips ruined you.

Surging up, you captured her lips in a searing kiss. Pouring every emotion in your body into the kiss, you held her close, like she was something precious, and something you were desperate not to lose. She whimpered, pressing closer, this kiss unlike any you’d shared before. You would live in this moment forever if you could.

When she drew back, there was a light to her, a glow you’d never seen before. It was as if something in her had relaxed. You were in awe, unsure how you’d gotten lucky enough to get her attention. You were nothing in comparison to her. And yet somehow, she’d chosen you and she loved you.

You were the luckiest person in the world.

“I hope you know you’re never getting rid of me now, kitten,” she said, lips pulling up into an impish grin.

“Good.” You rolled, flipping her onto her back, hovering over her, “because I’m going nowhere.”

You spent until dawn proving it to her.

[jesuistrestriste]

30s art donaldson tired af from tashi working him to the bone. so tired that he just wants to lay down but is also very horny cuz when is that man not and he asks reader “can you please just sit on my face” in a really quiet whimper or smth idk (i really just want to read about sitting on art’s face lol)

when art showed up at your door, sweaty and tired and flushed all over, you knew that you wouldn't be able to resist his pleas for attention. the exhausted, slightly defeated look in his pretty blue eyes had you weak all over. it was just no use.

he looked like a kicked puppy.

or maybe just a really over-worked man.

but that was beside the point.

you ushered him inside, cupping his face and cooing at him in all the ways you knew that he needed you to. he pouted. he whined. you could practically imagine a tail tucked between his legs. his coach must have really chewed him out during practice. he had been on a downward spiral in terms of his ability to win for the last few months. it had been rough, to say the least.

he kicked off his shoes and stumbled over to your living room floor, sitting down on the carpet where he opted to stretch his hamstrings. you sat in front of him and ran a hand through his damp hair. he leaned into your touch instinctually, and then buried his face into your neck as his hands slid to hold your lower back.

you embraced him and rubbed his back, hearing him let out little noises of contentment as your palms caressed circles over his aching body. you pressed a kiss to his neck. he tasted like salt and self-doubt, which was not unusual for him after he had just freshly come back from the courts.

he moaned softly against you and then his lips were on yours with a tender ferocity that he always carried. his tongue was eagerly slipping past your teeth to lick at yours, and then he was pulling you closer and furrowing his brows.

"Please," he whispered against your lips as he tilted his head to change angles. his dick was already hard. that's how easy it was for you to get him worked up.

"What-" you pause, kissing him deeper, "What is it?"

his hands gripped your hips.

"Can you please just sit on my face?"

you felt your body warm up instantly at the sound of his whimpered plea, like a bucket of hot spring water had been dumped over you, and you nod slowly against his lips.

within thirty seconds, he was laying flat on his back on your floor, and the clothing on the lower half of your body had been removed and tossed aside to unknown places.

you crawled up his form, and he watched your every move with bated breath, letting his fingers ghost over your body as you inched your way up to his mouth.

when you finally hovered above him on your bent knees, pussy just inches away from his desperate tongue, he immediately shuddered underneath you and looked up to your eyes with a look that begged you before he could even get the right words out.

"C'mon, please.." he moaned pathetically, hands now grasping at your torso and trying to pull you down to him.

you smile, biting your bottom lip.

"Ask me again."

his hips lifted up from the carpet, bucking into the air and affectively jolting the both of you. it was an accident; he didn't mean to. it was just that his mouth was watering and he was too fucking aroused to think properly.

"Will you sit on my face? Please?"

and with that, you lowered your wet core down to his mouth and relished in the way that he immediately groaned into you. his hands tightly held the back of your thighs as his lips suckled on your clit and his tongue lathed sloppily over your slick folds. his tongue darted in and out slowly from your hole, trying with everything in him to taste all that he possibly could.

you rocked your hips over his face, smearing his chin and the tip of his nose with your slimy arousal, but he couldn't have asked for anything better. he loved this. he craved this with everything in him. he wanted you to sit on him like this for however long you could stand it. he could die like this and be happy.

your orgasm built quickly thanks to his expert knowledge on what and where you liked to be kissed and tongued, and he let you gush over his face until you were shaking like a leaf. he gulped every drop down.

at the tail end of your climax, you felt his body shake below you, his eyes rolled back into his head as he gasped and murmured muffled words into your sopping cunt. you arch your back and pivot your body to look down at his form, and your eyes are instantly drawn to the wet patch soaking and growing over the fabric of his gym shorts.

he made you cum a second time after that. and then a third. and a fourth. your hands stayed tangled in his hair through each one, and you called out his name every time the waves of pleasure rushed through you.

even though you wanted art to feel better about himself in terms of his tennis career, there were certain.. perks to him feeling down about it. making you cum let him feel like a winner again, so you were going to ride this low-point of his for as long as you could. you knew he wouldn't mind.

[unknown-genshin-fan]

Sub!Baizhu x Dom!reader

(No pronouns used) TW: Sub!Baizhu + Aphrodisiac used + fingering + handjob + Baizhu being needy Baizhu was a careful person with medicinal arts, always making sure to never spill anything or use the wrong medicine on sick and injured people. But today it was different. He was a tad overworked from staying up late, his eyes slightly drooping as he reached over to grab the glass of water on his desk, His fingers reached out for the glass but accidentally mistaking the Aphrodisiac bottle for water, he placed the rim of the water taking a refreshing sip, he let out a refreshed sigh and opened his eyes. Baizhu's eyes immediately widened when he saw the Aphrodisiac label on the side of the glass. He set the bottle down and quickly rushed out of his room to try and get something to at least help him. The Aphrodisiac effects started to kick in causing an overwhelming need and lust to wash over his whole body causing his knees to shake and for him to fall on the floor.. His right hand gripping the door handle while his left hand gripping the fabric of his pants, He panted heavily desperate for release or for someone to help him with his overwhelming need and lust. Lucky for you. You stumbled across his office.. opened the door to see Baizhu who was kneeling down... The Aphrodisiac bottle on the floor spilling the remaining liquid out on the ground, His bronze-colored eyes immediately looked up at the person who stood by the door frame only to see you, His look turned from panic to pleading in an instant.. pleading with you to help him out from this awkward situation he was in. You took a step in before crouching down.. he moved his hand away from his crotch showing the bulge pushing against the fabric of his pants desperate to be free. Your right hand went to his bulge but instead of freeing it from his tight pants.. You started palming it gently against your palm causing whines and whimpers to leave Baizhu's mouth, His hips started bucking against you desperate for more pleasure on him. It doesn't take long for you to remove his pants and underwear. letting his cock spring free, His eyes clouded with lust as the tip of his cock started leaking precum. Your hand wrapped around his cock before starting to stroke it.. Your other hand wrapped around his left thigh and opened it revealing his puffy hole just begging to be filled with your fingers. You couldn't deny such a beautiful entrance so you dipped your fingers in lube before sinking your fingers into his hole. You stroking his cock while fingering his hole was too much for him to handle. Baizhu threw his head back, thrashing under you from the pleasure he was receiving from both his cock and hole. His cock started twitching in your hand leaking out more precum all over himself and his hand, dirtying the shirt he was wearing and the wooden floors. Your pace on both of his cock and hole turned from gentle to fast after a few seconds of letting him get used to being filled and stroked at the same time. Baizhu let's out a sob begging for release now, it wasn't long enough until your fingers found that oh-so-sweet spot finally letting your fingers roughly thrust into that sweet spot you desperately craved to find. It didn't take long for Baizhu to cum all over your hand, He arched his back and moaned loudly, the spot under his legs dirty with his cum.. His body slowly relaxed from the pleasure, You slowly removed your hands from his cock and hole but to only be met with Baizhu's hand grabbing your wrist back with a pleading look. Surely you'll give him more and help him right?

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I don't normally post trailers, but this one is exceptional. I have never seen anything like it. It's a 1977 double wide mid-century modern in Borrego Springs, CA that was lovingly restored, not renovated. 3bds, 2ba, and only $135K. The space rent is $930mo, but there are 2 golf courses, pickleball court, heated pool open 24hrs., bocce ball, hiking, card club, and 1 acre dog park. Always something going on.

Now, the description doesn't specify, but trailers usually come furnished.

What a cool light fixture. I also like how the big ficus tree looks.

The lamps and hanging lights are original MCM.

Check out the round kitchen. It looks like the Coppertone appliances may have been original and the harvest gold cooktop, ovens, and sinks are newer.

Check out this classic MCM fixture.

Original paneling on the walls and lovely art.

You don't see furniture pieces like that table/floor lamp- it's also a display piece.

Bedroom #1 has mirrored doors on the closet and a shag carpet.

The family room has a large wrap-around sofa, and behind it a built-in sofa table. (I wonder if the plush dog conveys, too.)

The first bath has the glass doors on the tub that were so popular in MCM baths. Love that art piece on the wall.

The secondary bedroom has a nice window. It feels like stepping back time, and it's so cozy.

The 2nd bath has a lovely spa tub, and look at the light above it.

Unlike most trailer parks where there's only a tiny walk-space between the trailers, this one has quite a nice yard.

There's a new-looking cement driveway and car port, also.

The photos don't show it, but there's a screened-in porch, also.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1010-Palm-Canyon-Dr-APT-302-Borrego-Springs-CA-92004/140604070_zpid

[wannaeatramyeon]

Goo Kim x Reader: One Night

G/N. Crazy Stupid Love Emma Stone/Ryan Gosling scene but make it Lookism. Masterlists

"Are you nervous?" Goo murmurs, a smile tugs at his lips when he feels you trembling.

He peers down at you and pauses. His hand, having worked its way under your top and caressing your bare skin - stops.

Tonight, you have aimed for sexy and sensual. It worked well. Fake it until you make it, and you made it when this handsome blonde at the bar invited you back to his apartment for a night of debauchery.

But your mask slips. It's hard to keep it on, y'know. When you are both half naked, about to be even more naked, there's nowhere left to hide.

Your nervousness comes out as a snort, because duh and you think some of your previous sexy and sensual points are deducted.

"Yeah," you respond with an awkward giggle. Then your mouth runs before your single brain cell can.

"- Also, something has been digging into my back all this time," Goo waggles his eyebrows at you suggestively, "No. Definitely not. I think it's a spring or something or I don't know... crumbs? Have you been eating in bed? Either way I think this is the most uncomfortable mattress I've ever laid on. Your silk bed sheets are something else though - who even has silk bed sheets? It's like something from the 80s along with waterbeds but god they feel so fucking great on my legs."

Goo is stunned into silence momentarily before he barks out a laugh.

He rolls off you and onto the left side on the bed, full body wriggling around slightly, experiencing the silk bed sheets for himself and chuckles.

"Sweetheart, you're right. And I've always hated this mattress." He sighs, adding, "I got conned by fucking influencers."

You whip your head towards him and give him a look, "Influencers?! What. Is this those fancy brands that I've been seeing them shill all over my social media-"

Goo turns towards you, a pout on his lips and eyebrows pinched together in a pitiful expression. "Yep. I've hated it since the first night."

"Then why didn't you return it!"

He shrugs and you laugh, your previous nervousness dissipating.

"I always wondered what idiot would fall for those."

"Hey!"

A brief moment of silence then-

"Did you buy these sheets from an infomercial or something?"

"Excuse me!" Goo shuffles, angles himself so he's fully facing you. Head held up by the palm of his hand and resting his elbow on the mattress.

There's mischief, life in his face that wasn't there earlier tonight. "Sue me. I have money to spend, sometimes I can't sleep, and those sales people sell things so well."

You let out another unrefined snort, amused by this guy.

Suddenly finding there's so much personality, a touch of vulnerability revealed in that statement, behind the expensive glasses, his tailored suit and his muscled body.

"Wanna see what other crap I've bought?"

.

.

You both wander around his apartment, which turned out to be a huge fucking penthouse now that he has the light on and is giving you a guided tour, in your underwear. 

Goo, no shame and expanses of skin on show, and you follow closely behind with his silk sheets wrapped loosely around your body.

He gestures at what you assume to be a coffee machine sitting proudly on his kitchen countertop. All sleek and stainless steel with dials and buttons on every surface.

"I can't even use this thing. I've had it for 2 years."

"Look," Goo opens an overhead kitchen cupboard, gesticulating like he's going to perform a magic trick, and dramatically shows you rows and rows of trendy kitchen gadgets, no doubt also purchased during moments of insomnia. Pizza scissors, spiralizer, bread maker, air fryer, pressure cooker.

"Never used."

"This," he points at the far wall, and you squint, barely making out a framed art piece of the ugliest monkey face you have ever seen. But hey, art is subjective, right-

"-is an NFT. I bought that too."

That tips you over the edge.

You cackle and cackle, doubled over and holding onto him for balance.

.

.

There's a dusty segway sitting pitifully in the corner of an unused spare room.

You jump out from round a corner, LED mask on your face and flashing a menacing red - "Boo!"and Goo actually jumps.

A lonely treadmill, placed beneath one of those fancy sit-stand desk catches your eye.  Goo smirks, "Babe, I don't even have a desk job."

Instead of spending all night tangled in his silk bedsheets together, Goo jogs down memory lane of sleepless nights and impulse buys with you by his side.

Your laughter starts to tinge all his memories.

Your good natured ribbing and mocking.

His hyena cackle joins yours, and he wonders when was the last time he was able to laugh with someone. Has he ever spent an entire night talking to someone like this?

"Ask me something personal." He requests, both now lying on his uncomfortable bed. You in his arms, hair tickling his chin.

"What do you want from life?"

"To make money."

"Why?"

"I want to be rich."

"Why?"

"Well, who doesn't want to be rich, sweetheart."

"Yeah but why do you?"

Goo remembers running errands, doing anything to earn some money. Anything for a price. His cousin calling in his services, and he happily beat up some middle schoolers to help him (and who was it again, Tabasco?) out.

He doesn't really know where his thirst for money making has come from. Maybe there's some deep set trauma from his life pre-juvie or some shit he should pay a therapist to decipher but alas.

He tells you this, all this and more. At some point, his head is the one lying on your chest and you absentmindedly stroke through his blonde locks, humming noises of encouragement, listening to his words.

Weird, Goo thinks, when he finally drifts off to sleep with you snoring gently beside him. 

The morning sun already filters through the blinds, and the hustle and bustle of Seoul has started to pick up.

How comfortable this feels. How natural your connection with him is. How this is the spark people dream about, and somehow it has hit him when he wasn’t looking for anything more.

That someone as different to him as you are, that is only ever supposed to be company for a few hours, a night at best, could spell trouble. Raise his hackles, send his alarms blaring.

When he's usually the walking red flag.

Because you’ve got him thinking. A lot. That shrewd brain hidden behind playfulness has been whirring; wondering about what happens if you become a regular fixture.

Maybe you might doom him, in the end. Maybe this will lead to a dead end and nothing more.

But he's curious enough, the spark is shining brightly enough, to see where else you might lead him to too.

[anonyomooose]

if you haven’t watched the penguin already, i cannot explain to you how much you need to start right NOW. you don’t need to watch the batman (though it absolutely helps and makes it much better), but the finale episode was genuinely a work of art. every beat every second kept me hooked and the show really stands on its own legs, the fact that it’s part of the batman franchise comes second to just what phenomenal television it is. cristin milioti (i loved you since palm springs queen) did such an incredible job and so did colin farrell. i can’t wait for the movie and genuinely just go watch it :)

just look at this frame… gotham feels alive and evil and REAL. sofia’s costumes, the characters just everything was so so beautiful.

[rotworld]

28: Cold-Blooded

art by @exorbitantsqueakingnoises

you've known for years that your best friend nor comes from the most dangerous and prominent dragon crime family in town. you've never worried about it too much, but you probably should have.

->original work. explicit; contains non-con, graphic descriptions of violence, manipulation, murder, feral behavior, possessive behavior.

.

.

.

Red flag number one: Nor shows up at your door two hours before the party. There’s a pair of plastic drycleaning bags slung over his shoulder and he’s dragging a suitcase behind him. You don’t want to let him in but he does that thing you knew he’d do with his big, pretty tourmaline eyes and the saddest, most pathetic pout like a kitten begging to be rescued from a storm drain, and you cave. He waltzes right in like he owns the place and makes a beeline for your bedroom.

“This should be everything,” he says, laying the drycleaning bags out on your bed before he kneels to get the suitcase open. “Yours is on the left. Go ahead and start putting it on, I’ll help you with the ties in a second.” 

“You’re kidding.” You very pointedly don’t get a response. “You said this was a normal party.”

“It is normal,” he insists. “For me.” 

The zipper shrieks apart and he spreads the suitcase open across the floor. There’s an antique wooden box inside that smells faintly of floral perfume, the surface carved with intricate looping symbols that wouldn’t look out of place along the borders of a medieval tapestry. The hinges creak when Nor opens it. Small decorative jars of colorful glass and gold filigree sit in red velvet. There are brushes clasped by leather straps to the inside of the lid, ranging from broad, puffball bristles to very fine points. 

“What does that mean?”

Nor looks up with a pleading expression. “I’ll handle everything, okay? That’s why I brought all this stuff. And I’ll be next to you the whole time, I swear, I don’t even want to go to this stupid thing but my dad won’t get off my ass about it. We’ll just hang out in the corner, eat some food, and slip out when nobody’s paying attention.”

“This is a family thing?” He nods pitifully. How can a dragon, in human skin or otherwise, look so much like a scolded puppy? “Don’t just spring this stuff on me. I would’ve gone if you told me from the start, you don’t have to lie.” It wouldn’t be the first formal event you’ve saved him from and it probably won’t be the last. So why is he being so cagey about it? You pick up the drycleaning bag set aside for you and frown. “Nor,” you say slowly. “What is this?”

He grins, showing off a mouthful of daggers. “It’s your outfit,” he says, knowing damn well that’s not what you meant.

Red flag number two:the “clothes” are a tangle of sashes and scarves that will show far more than they cover. You peel off the plastic and run the material over your fingers. It’s nice for sure, really nice. Each sash is made of sleek black fabric that’s velvety smooth but lightweight and flowing, decorated with embroidery in intricate geometric patterns. The stitching is luminescent and changes color when you look at it from different angles, shimmering in a prismatic cycle from red to blue as you slide it across your palm.

“What kind of party is this, exactly?” you ask. 

“Dinner party with lots of standing around pretending to be important. You know, the usual.”

This certainly doesn’t look usual to you but you lose your train of thought when Nor suddenly undresses without warning or shame. He exhales slowly, pushing stark white hair out of his face and flexing the muscles in his back. 

A line of jagged bone like a miniature mountain ridge juts from his spine, bloodlessly piercing a thin membrane of pseudo-skin. You can see his wings trying to form, an unsettling squirming in the flesh of his shoulders, but he keeps them tucked away for now. His tail snakes out at the very bottom, a lithe rope of solid muscle with stiff thorny protrusions along the top. What used to be a pair of little rounded nubs have grown into snaking upturned horns, brown and rough like tree bark. Skin hardens in glinting patches along his back and down his sides. Nor’s scales are gold and nacreous silver. Seeing him shifted, whether half or whole, always steals your breath.

“I don’t love this either,” he says, his tail flicking irritably. “But it is what it is.” You’re surprised that there’s an identical outfit in the other bag. He puts it on with practiced ease, knowing exactly how and where to loop and tuck and tie each sash. The result is an elegant, form-fitting garment criss-crosses his body that accentuates rather than conceals. His chest is framed with black stripes over and under it, the scales of his hips on display in the gaps left at his sides. Long panels dangle in front of and behind his legs. There’s a strategically spaced gap left for his tail.

Looking him over, you realize it’s not quite the same outfit. His is plain. The sashes are undecorated, lacking any pattern or embroidery. 

“Did you mix these up?” you ask him.

He looks at you, head tilted and pupils narrowed into long slits. “No?” he says, sounding confused. “This one’s for family and that one’s for a, uh…guest. We really need to get started on yours, by the way. We’ve got like a thousand pieces of jewelry to put on each and then I have to do the ceremonial markings.” He gestures at the bottles and brushes. You haven’t even done anything and you’re already feeling overwhelmed.

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea. I don’t want to embarrass you. Shouldn’t you bring someone, uh…I dunno, prettier?” 

“Don’t ever say that again.” Your heart leaps into your throat when Nor lunges at you. You stumble back, pinned to the edge of your bed when he plants his hands down on either side of you. His eyes are wide and he’s baring his teeth, practically snarling at you. “What does that even mean, ‘embarrass me?’ You’re perfect. If I wanted someone else, I would’ve asked someone else. I want you—” You’re both startled by the sound of his claws ripping through your sheets and mattress. He backs off immediately, tail drooping and claws clutched against his chest like he doesn’t trust them. “I want you to come,” he says sheepishly. “There’s lots of people I could ask, but you’re…special. You always have been.” 

It makes you roll your eyes when he says stuff like that. It’s not that Nor is never sincere, but his reputation as a heartbreaker is legendary. He was a menace in high school and you’ve heard through the grapevine that he hasn’t changed much since, still a pretty face with a silver tongue and habit of never calling back. The two of you were a romcom waiting to happen—a rich boy who never heard the word “no” in his life and the only kid who wouldn’t kiss his ass, but things never went that way. You were the only constant in a rotating roster of fairweather friends who liked his family’s money and lovers he couldn’t be bothered to keep, the only one he’s ever asked to keep him company at these stiff family get-togethers.

You hold up the sash again, grimacing. “How do you know this’ll even fit me?” 

“Magic,” Nor says, waving his hand dismissively. “Now come on, hurry up and try it on.” His tail swats your leg when you don’t move fast enough.

It’s not like there’s nothing there. There always has been. Simmering just under the surface, there’s this tension you’re both afraid to acknowledge out loud. Nor insists that you get changed in front of him and watches just a bit too intently when you undress. He stands behind you when he ties the sashes in place, his chest pressed against your back and his breath blowing softly against your ear. He stretches the fabric from your waist to your shoulder and runs his hand over it, smoothing his palm over your skin. You offer to hand him the next one but instead he bends over you, forcing you to bend with him, and reaches for it himself.

You can feel him against your back. His pectorals, the firm, lithe muscle of his abdomen, his cock nestled between your thighs with only the fabric of the sash keeping it from twitching against your skin. He’s cool to the touch but he gets warmer the longer he’s pressed against you, absorbing your body heat. “Nor?” you say, your voice quivering with—nerves? Anticipation? Do you want him to stop or do you wish he’d keep going?

“Yeah?” he says, low and husky. He tilts you back upright and keeps working like nothing happened, stretching the next sash across your body. You shiver when he secures a tie at your neck, the tips of his claws softly grazing your throat. “What? Did you want to ask me something?” The tip of his tail coils loosely around your ankle. 

“Do I get a coat, at least? I’m freezing.” 

He snorts. “Don’t you remember what these are like? It’s a dragon party. You can bring one, but you won’t need it when we get there.”

Nor’s touch still lingers and sometimes grazes somewhere sensitive, but there’s some distance that wasn’t there before. He talks while he gets you ready, reminiscing on all the trouble you used to get up to together at these parties—more accurately, all the trouble he’d get into and you’d witness. Tearing holes in the tablecloths and knocking over very expensive floral arrangements with his tail, sneaking off to the kitchens and begging the chef to make you both an early dessert. She always did. You’re not the only one that sad, soggy cat look works on. 

The ceremonial markings take almost an hour all by themselves but Nor is surprisingly focused and patient when he wants to be. The symbols he draws are small and complicated. You can’t see what he puts on your forehead or neck but the small shapes he draws on your arms and legs are repeating, interlocking shapes, something like broad, flattened diamonds. Scales, you realize. They’re a scale pattern—Nor’s scale pattern. 

The brush tickles when it grazes your stomach. Nor teases you for squirming but he behaves for the most part. You try not to think about why that disappoints you so much. Tucked into a zipper compartment on the other side of the suitcase is a small fortune in gold chains, bangles, rings and necklaces. You don’t want any but Nor insists. “Going to be a little awkward to drive in all this,” you say.

“No worries,” he says. “Dad sent his driver.” 

You’re in the backseat of red flag number three for a drive that is both excruciatingly long and far too brief. The driver is wearing a suit and tie. He calls Nor “sir” and opens the door for you, then doesn’t say another word. It’s late and everything is shadow beyond the headlights and the faint glow of the moon on a winding country road. Nor wants to make conversation but you’re too unnerved to offer more than one-word answers and sounds of acknowledgement. “It’s like a business thing, but also just a fun thing,” he says, trying and failing to put your mind at ease. “A bunch of family friends come over and everyone catches up. We’re nosy. It’s a cultural thing. You’re supposed to announce anything new you’ve got going on, like if you’re going on a trip or getting mated.” 

“Do you have anything to announce?” you ask.

His hand rests on your thigh, thumb tracing the dried scale patterns he drew on your skin. He doesn’t answer. 

Nor’s father lives atop a hill at the edge of town. To call it a house or even a mansion is like calling the ocean “a bit of water.” The sprawling estate has a forest for a yard, complete with a tranquil lake where Nor used to swim as a boy, the water glittering on his scales like morning dew. The home itself is best described as a castle, a three-story complex of gray stone spires. The car pulls into a circle drive with a fountain in the center. Soft orange candle light flickers behind the curtains, not on the first or third floor but exclusively on the second. 

To your horror, Nor’s father is standing outside. He watches the car pull up with a scowl on his face, waiting beneath the arched entryway. He’s dressed like you and Nor but his sashes are far more numerous and extravagant, draped like a robe over his frighteningly tall figure. 

“Am I supposed to be here?” you whisper. “Why is he glaring at me?” You shrink back when the driver opens the door but Nor puts a hand on your shoulder and pushes gently. 

“Yes, you’re supposed to be here. And he’s not glaring at you, he’s glaring at me,” Nor says. He follows you out and grabs your hand, wrapping his fingers around yours. “It’s fine,” he insists gently. “Don’t worry, okay? Just trust me. I’m going to take care of everything.” 

You want to ask him what the hell that’s supposed to mean but you never get the chance because his father walks over. Druezaghrath never makes himself more than half-human. He looms over both of you, amber eyes flicking back and forth in black sclera. His scales are gold and his horns are much larger than Nor’s, but they arch straight back instead of curling up like his son’s. 

“You’re nearly late, Norlathellios,” he rumbles.

Nor cranes his neck and looks his father in the eye without flinching. “Can’t be late to my own fucking announcement,” he says. “What’re you gonna do? Start without me?” 

Druezaghrath narrows his eyes and smoke trickles from his nostrils. His tail thrashes, striking the concrete behind him hard enough to shatter it. His gaze flicks to you when you flinch at the sound and you avert your eyes. “Save your defiance. You have a challenger.”

“Fine.” Nor squeezes your hand. You don’t want to follow him when he starts moving. You dig your heels in. Something is wrong here, about all of this. Nor looks back at you with that sad expression but it doesn’t work this time. “Come on,” he says, tugging your hand a little harder. “I told you, it’s fine.” 

“Go inside,” Druezaghrath says. “We’ll join you shortly.” 

Your stomach lurches in panic. This is so much worse. Nor doesn’t want to go but he glances up at the cold stone and flickering windows with a solemn expression. “They’re already scared,” he says. “Go easy.” 

“Nor?” you say, your voice pitched in terror. He lets go of your hand. You try to reach for him but Druezaghrath’s large, coarse claws close around your forearm and drag you to a stop. “Nor, wait!”

He does, but only for a second. He looks back and his smile is bittersweet. “Sorry about all this. You’ll get it, when it’s over. It’ll make sense. And maybe you’ll…” He doesn’t finish the thought. His gaze flicks up to his father looming over you and he takes a deep breath. Then he turns on his heel, sashes fluttering, and disappears through the front doors. You try to follow him and don’t make it even one step, Druezaghrath’s grip on your arm tightening to painful, bruising pressure. 

“I need you to understand something,” he says. He turns you around and you see his eyes glinting like a predator’s in the dark. “If you run, I’ll catch you. You won’t get anywhere close to the property line. You don’t want to waste my time like that, and you need to save your strength. Nor has been looking forward to this.” His grip shifts down and he holds up your wrist, examining the ceremonial markings. “I really should’ve seen this coming,” he muses. “He was always so particular about you.” Your trembling makes him exhale sharply in amusement. “He didn’t tell you a single thing about what’s happening tonight, did he? That boy…” 

A whimper slips out when he starts moving and pulls you with him, far stronger than Nor and completely unconcerned with how much you fight and struggle. He drags you through a foyer so dark you can’t see your hand in front of your face, then up a carpeted flight of stairs. 

“My son has requested an audience to witness his mating announcement,” he explains, ignoring your pleas and protests and begging. “Some say he’s too young. I was well into my second century before I considered such a thing. There are concerns that a mate at this age might affect his decision making and negatively impact the family business. He must prove two things tonight: that he is capable, and that you are compatible. It sounds like the first test is already underway.” 

You don’t know what he means until you hear something in the distance, too muffled at first to make out. Something falling? Something hitting something? Candles flicker in wall sconces, lighting a long hall to a pair of wooden doors cracked ajar. You hear a low, rumbling growl like the grinding of stone and then a much shriller animal sound of distress that makes your blood run cold. Something crunches and splatters. Something hisses and wheezes, flailing against the hard stone floor. 

Druezaghrath approaches the doors first. He nudges them open, peering inside. You don’t want to look. Now everything you hear is wet—the slick sound of sharpness parting flesh, liquid spilling, soft things squeezed and crushed until they burst. “Is he…okay?” you whisper. Druezaghrath looks at you like you grew a second head. You don’t know why you’re asking, either. You don’t want to be here. You’re scared out of your mind. But the idea of him getting hurt, of those awful noises coming from him, makes the horror unbearable. “Nor, is he—he’s fighting someone, isn’t he? Is he hurt?” 

Nor’s father tilts his head, looking at you as though spotting something he finds interesting, maybe even appealing, for the first time. His grip on your arm loosens, his thumb rubbing gently at the bruises he left behind. “Your mate is strong,” he says with quiet pride. “I hope to see you match that strength.” He pushes both doors open and throws you forward. 

You might’ve caught yourself if the floor wasn’t wet. You land badly on your hip and shoulder and everything stings for a moment, the room out of focus. It’s red. You know that much. And it’s no mystery what all the red is because the acrid, metallic stench of it fills your nose. A circle of candles, mostly melted into puddles of wax, delineates what must have been the dueling grounds because the blood only rarely trespasses that boundary.There are people here—dragons, a crowd of them, gathered at a distance. They stand beyond the reach of the light so all you can make out are towering silhouettes and glinting eyes. 

No one speaks. Maybe this kind of announcement needs no words. Maybe Nor’s face says it all. You see him in the center of the carnage, skin and robes drenched in clinging gore and viscera. A body twitches on the ground at his feet, more than half-dragon and covered in scales. It’s disemboweled, an unraveled loop of entrails cooling beside a horrific gaping wound in its belly. It was clawed open. You can see everything inside from the curled bars of a ribcage to colorful organs. Nor holds a severed wing in his fist, clutching shattered, jagged bone and scrunched cartilage oozing blood between his fingers. The other wing lies on the floor, shredded and limp like a torn sail.

The sound of you slipping and falling attracts his attention. His pupils are blown wide and for a moment, you wonder if he even sees you. If he’s so lost in bloodlust that he’ll attack you next. You flinch when he drops the wing. It lands with a heavy, squelching thud, tattered membranes leaking fresh puddles of blood. He kneels, gathering you in his arms with his staggering inhuman strength, lifting you up and standing in the same fluid motion. 

“This is my mate,” he tells the others. The cold sharpness of his voice makes him sound like his father. He pauses a moment, his eyes scanning the crowd. Looking for dissent, maybe. For someone else to tell him he’s too young to have what he wants. No one does. He lets out a breath that rumbles like a growl, exhaling smoke. “Then it’s settled,” he says quietly. He starts moving. Not towards the crowd or the door, but to the center of the circle of candles. To the corpse of whoever he just killed. You call his name but he doesn’t hear you. Maybe he doesn’t care. He’s already come this far and nothing’s going to stop him now. Certainly not you. 

Nor sets you down gently. The gesture is ruined by the disgusting sounds of the organs puddled under you. You’re sitting in it. There’s blood and muscle and jutting bone and vein-streaked offal everywhere. It smears over your ceremonial markings and stains your sashes, turning the embroidery bright red. Nor kneels in the same mess. He reaches out and cups your face with his filthy, gore-covered hands. He kisses your forehead with bloodstained lips, then your cheeks, and then just briefly, chastely, on the mouth. 

“I love you,” he says. “I’m so sorry.” 

You struggle when he climbs on top of you. You don’t care how it looks or what it might mean to the people watching, if it ruins the whole announcement. You don’t want this. But Druezaghrath was right—his son is strong. You had no idea because he’s never used that strength against you before. He doesn’t care that you flail and kick at him. He flips you over and pins you down with one hand, forcing you flat against the sticky floor. His claws shred your sashes with such perfect precision that he never scratches your skin. 

You get loose when he tries to line himself up with your entrance. You don’t get far before he’s on you again, dragging you back into position with labored breaths. It suddenly hits you that he just killed someone—just fought someone to the death in the time it took his father to walk you up the stairs—and he’s still faster than you. Still able to force you back down and nudge your legs apart. You hear him moan quietly and the slick sounds of his fist working his cock before the tip starts prodding at you. You whimper and he shushes you.

“I know, baby. I’ll try to make it quick,” he murmurs. He lays himself over your back and you’re completely trapped. Was he always this much heavier than you? Or did he always hold back when you play-wrestled as kids? He moves his hips slowly at first, testing the waters. He pays attention to the noises you make. He doesn’t stop, no matter how much you sob, but he listens intently to how your breathing hitches as his thick tip spreads you open. He’s gentle. He’s going so, so slowly. It’s almost worse than if he were rough. There’s no pretending this is something else. It’s him, it’s Nor, as sweet as he’s always been to you. This unspoken thing lurking between you is suddenly dragged up into the light and it hurts to look at.

You’ve always wanted him but not like this.

Nor thrusts his hips and more of his length sinks into your body. He’s big. The stretch stings but he’s got a hand tucked under you and slipping between your thighs, fingers carefully working your sex. “You’re so tight,” he whispers against your ear, kissing and licking the lobe. “I know you’re scared, but it’s all gonna be okay. I’ve got you. Just feel this.” Every shock of pleasure makes your head spin. You don’t want to enjoy this, but Nor learns your body in a matter of minutes. He searches for the places that make whimper in a different way and then he teases them mercilessly. 

One hand stays between your legs, dexterous fingers stroking with just the right amount of pleasure to make your hips buck against him. The other wanders, lingering anywhere sensitive. He never stops fucking you. He’s pumping his hips now, sinking deeper and thrusting harder. Your hands slip on the floor in search of something to hold onto, something to anchor you. All you find is the dead dragon and everything that should be inside it piled outside, making a sound of mindless distress when you grab onto something that’s still pulsating. None of Nor’s sweet nothings soothe you but he doesn’t stop trying. His voice is a constant heated murmur, only interrupted when he pauses to kiss and suck at your neck. 

“You’re doing so good, baby. So, so good. I want you to cum for me. Can you do that?” 

You can’t. You don’t want to. Not here, not in front of all these people—is Druezaghrath here? Watching this? You feel sick. You can’t. But Nor doesn’t let up. He mouths at your pulse, strokes you harder, fucks you faster. You’re moving and you didn’t even realize it, didn’t mean for your body to move against his fingers and back into his thrusts. He pushes your legs even further apart and then he really starts rutting. The sound of flesh slapping flesh, your hips meeting, his balls slapping your ass as he hilts himself inside you over and over again, fills your ears.

“Cum for me,” he begs you. “Baby, please. Cum on my cock. Doesn’t it feel good? I’ve been practicing for this—for you. It’s okay to like this. Just let go.” 

Practicing, he said. Is that what all of that was before? All those furious ex-partners, all those sobbing confessions, all those angry late night calls and texts that made him turn his phone off and go back to pretending he was cuddled up against you in a totally platonic way? Just practice for the person he really wanted? 

“I love you,” he murmurs. You hate that it makes you tighten around him. “You like it when I say that? I’ll say it as many times as you want for the rest of our lives. I love you, baby. Fuck, I love you so much…” He keeps saying it, keeps whispering his devotion until the sounds mean nothing. Eventually, it happens. You don’t want it to but he nips at your neck and grinds his cock deep inside you, and you scream. It’s the worst and best orgasm of your life. Nor drags it out as long as he can, fucking you through your shuddering gasps and whimpers until you’re limp underneath him. He pulls out but your relief is short-lived. 

He turns you over onto your back. You barely recognize him. His eyes are different. Wilder. Glazed in pleasure. The blood has dried to his skin, dark red smears on his chin, his chest, his arms. His gaze rakes your body and then he’s reaching for you again, lining his cock up with your aching entrance again. 

“Almost done, baby,” he rasps. “Just a little more. Just gotta make me cum and it’s over. Don’t think, okay? Don’t think about anything. Just feel me. Feel this.” You can’t. You try to tell him that but your voice is hoarse and weak. You let out a strangled whine when he pushes into you again. He tells you he loves you again. He apologizes again. He kisses you with ferocious hunger and your legs wrap around his waist. He moans against your mouth, a hand stroking your thigh. 

You cum before he does, back arching, arms wrapped around him. Nor keeps saying just a little more, just a little more, praise and promises. Eventually, you take his advice without even meaning to and stop thinking about anything at all.

[toweroftickles]

Reimagined Tickling #5

Fairy Tail/The Legend of Korra

A lot of times when I see a tickling scene in a movie or TV show, I imagine how fun it would be to see other characters in those same situations. You know, like "Oh I wanna see X character get tickled like that." So I thought I'd try writing a few drabbles where I'll take a famous tickle scene and reinterpret it with new characters in new settings.

This one was a request from my readers! Let’s see how Avatar Korra fares, living through Lucy Heartfilia’s torment from Virgo.

This story takes place during TLOK Season One.

Late-night puddle droplets splished into the air and drenched Korra’s heavy tundra-camel boots with every thunderous step. The brickwork backstreet was too crowded for her to use her bending arts safely, but she wasn’t going to let her target escape.

“Hey! Get back here!!” she shouted.

Through the window of Narook's Noodlery where she and her Fire Ferrets celebrated, Korra had spied the girl outside...a scrawny little scarecrow, couldn't have been more than 10 or 11, all in seaweed-colored rags of ill fit, with tufts of bright orange plumage shooting out from beneath her aviator goggles. She'd been struggling to remove the hubcaps from Asami’s car. A street rat kid rummaging for auto parts? Probably part of the Badgermole Triad. Well, if Officer Lin was too busy with “important city matters” to deal with them, Korra would do it herself.

The Avatar pushed and shoved her way through the crowd, lagging behind a diminutive thief who had the ability to simply slip underneath the sea of legs. For a moment, her pursuit was blocked by a busy traffic intersection...the girl was already across the street and fleeing fast...but Korra quickly dodged and flipped between the charging vehicles. As one car pulled out into the road, milliseconds before crashing into it, she vaulted legs-first over the engine hood, a blast of air propelling her along to the sidewalk on the other side, and the squeeeaaeeaaaky slide over hot metal nearly rubbed her butt-cheek raw.

"GET OUTTA THE STREET, YA MORON!" The pedestrian driver's horn rattled her eardrums.

Yow!! Ow ow ow ow ow! Korra hissed to herself, clutching her sore behind as she ran. (Well…it was more of a limping hop.) Ugh, that’s gonna smart for a while…

The chase led down a limestone alcove, hidden beneath a dumpster behind the Cabbage Corp building, down a wrought iron ladder that bored flakes of rust into Korra’s palms, and into the cyclical catacombs of the Warrens. Why did these dumb squirts have so much energy? She was nearly out of breath and about to call off the pursuit, when she found herself in the atrium of a massive cave.

The city lights above illuminated the red-brown earth floor. All across the sprawling portal were the bodies of countless wrecked vehicles, no doubt used in the illegal racing circuit. Satomobiles and Cabbage Car chassis of all colors littered the pools of light like croutons in soup, their parts creaking and groaning against each other. And at the far end of the cavern, past the musty graveyard of wheels and springs, there stood the kid, her back to Korra, perfectly still.

Was she oblivious, or planning something? Korra wasn't gonna wait to find out. Uncaring about noise or stealth, she charged.

Now I've got you!

Without a turn, without even a sideways glance, the mysterious child stomped a bare and bandaged foot into the dirt.

The ground beneath Korra's feet instantly dropped away like a trapdoor. “WHOA!!!” Korra yelped and tried to stop herself, but her momentum slid her down the ramp-like opening on her heel and carried her right into the maw of this newly-dug pit. She barely had time to steady herself either - as soon as she wobbled to a stable position, four large rectangles of stone, thick as concrete slabs, rose up vertically around her and rushed at her from all angles. On pure instinct she threw her arms out to the sides to block them, and her wrists were greeted by a crushing weight that nearly shattered them to splinters. She winced and shouted as the walls pushed against her hands, boxing her in and forcing their way closer and closer to her, but somehow, her throbbing arms held firm. Her energy was drained from the chase, but eventually, the blocks ground to a slow stop, and the dust settled.

Korra wheezed. Whew. I was almost a pancake. She felt like she was trapped inside a chimney. Unable to clearly see her surroundings, she glanced up to find the little sticky-fingers on the ledge of the trap hole, staring furiously down at her.

"Stop following me!" the kid yipped.

“You’re an earthbender?!”

"Of course I'm an earthbender! Now leave me alone!"

It was this surprise revelation that made Korra pause…this earthen box itself was no problem. One quick push outward and the walls would crumble. Her knees swiveled inward to form a Gong Kiu stance. She furrowed her brow and felt the rock surge beneath her hands, unaware of the sedimentary serpent that approached her.

It started small at first. Tiny granules of sand and crumbled earth all teemed together like a school of krill at the Badgermole recruit’s feet. Then, smoother, rounder stones joined the fun. Soon they all coalesced into the shape of a tentacle, that grew and grew in length until it was large enough to reach over the edge of the crevice and spiral down to the Avatar’s body. It nosed around as if hunting, dancing to its master’s commands, until finally, it lunged.

A sharp blade of air stabbed Korra's throat. All the blood in her face drained into the back of her neck, and she froze, save for her widened eyes, which darted to look at her abdomen. For a split second of terror, she thought she'd been speared. But no. This was worse.

The stone whip that she saw for the first time caressed her stomach back and forth like a tongue, up and down, side to side, between every taut muscle and even around the rim of her navel. It wiggled and poked and wouldn’t stop.

What the - ?!

“Tickletickletickletickletickle!!” the urchin girl’s shrill voice called out.

No. Wait. You’ve gotta be kidding me.

Korra tried to wrestle the urge down into her stomach, but she couldn’t help herself. She simply burst out laughing.

“Wha…d-d’ah! H…Haha! Haha Ha-Ha Ha!” Only for a fraction of a second, her hands slipped downward. But that was enough. Her strength gave way and those rock slabs, commanded by another stomp of the mysterious kid’s foot, pummeled even harder against her arms. They smooshed Korra tighter and tighter ‘til her elbows buckled.

“Ahhhh-ow ow ow OWWWW!!!” Hot thorns of pain cracked her ulnae.

“Heh-Heh Heh! That’s the best trick I ever learned! Not so easy to concentrate on your bending when you’re laughing like a hyena-monkey, is it, Miss Avatar?”

“Ugh! You little brat! Fight me like a real bender!” Korra barked.

But the young thief was merely bemused by this demand. “Hmmmm…” She stroked her chin and pretended to ponder for a moment, before a cruel snaggle-toothed smile grew across her freckles. “Ok!”

The girl threw out her right arm and twisted her wrist so that her fingers faced the ceiling. While those pointed digits wiggled in the air, her left hand made fast swipes like a conductor's baton, and her feet drew concentric circles on the ground. Korra had never seen bending like this. She would’ve been more curious...if her thoughts weren’t distracted by the craggy tentacle that was now wiggling underneath her left armpit.

“D-don’t!! Haha-Ha! Ha-Ha Ha-Ha!! *gasp* Huh! Quihit it! Nooo, crahap; why don’t I cover thohohose?!” This was humiliating. Why tickling?!

With every tiny stumble of her hands, the rocks pushed in closer. A few more slip-ups and she'd be crushed. Now she was starting to panic.

“Are you ticklish here? Or here? What about there? You’re gonna beg for mercy before long!”

The pebbles in the strand climbed over one another and traced serpentine patterns along Korra’s jaw, dragging their tiny rigid edges against the underside of her chin…down her neck…deep in her collarbone…drilling into the left armpit, and then the right…down her back…scrawling between each individual rib…once it even burrowed itself into the back of her knee, twisting and wriggling against a painfully vulnerable spot of skin. Every time Korra attempted to contort her body away from the rock-and-sand tendril, it leapt with lightning speed to another one of her softest pressure points, each more weak and sensitive than the last.

“Kitchie kitchie coo! Ah-Kitchakitchakitchakitchakitchakitchakitcha!” That nasal baby-talk was really starting to grate.

“PFFHA-HA HA-HA……nnnnn!! ….GkKHaha-Ha! *hic* Ha-Ha Ha-Ha Ha-Ha!! D…Dahamn it! Haha! Huh-Huh Ha-Ha Ha!! R-HA-hocks…rocks are supposed to be sharp; they’re not s’posed to tickl-hl-hl-ha!!”

Korra’s arms trembled in their sockets. Only a single cubit’s length separated the two walls that sandwiched her…all her strength was sapped out…gravel was practically sanding down her ears…

“Had enough yet?”

All of a sudden, the tickle whip backed off. Korra bent over double in a struggle to catch her breath. Pools of achy misery swam through her ab muscles. A single bead of sweat drizzled its way down the bridge of her nose as she huffed and puffed.

“Hmmm…this isn’t working,” the pint-sized pilferer pouted with folded arms.

“Uhhh…Wha…what do you mean?” the Avatar moaned and raised her head. Particulates of sand were slithering up the side of the crevice and back to their commander. “Why’d you stop?”

“Hmf. Well I wanted to punish you for chasing after me. But you’re enjoying it.”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU THIS IS TORTURE!!” Korra might not have been a direct branch on Aang and Katara’s family tree, but she sure could channel her Water Tribe forebear’s explosive frog-mouthed temper. Tenzin was rubbing off on her.

Before she could protest further, the stone walls around her dissolved back into the ground as quickly as they’d sprung up. With nothing to push her palms against, Korra was suddenly thrown off-balance and, with her arms windmilling wildly, she toppled backwards like a chopped-down tree.

CRASH!!

It was a good several seconds before she managed to push herself up off the soil again. A heavy pulse thump-thump-thumped all the way from her hips to her throat. Her arms felt like jook pudding.

“Ugh…yep. Still smarts. Landed right on it,” she groused, to no one in particular. Korra didn’t have to climb out of the quarry to realize that her quarry was long gone.*

Great. Just great. She galavanted off halfway across the city, ditched her friends, bruised her ass, got lost in the Underground, nearly broke her arms, and got tickled mercilessly, just to fail at catching a poor kid who didn’t actually steal anything from them. Brilliant, Korra. She groaned and pinched her eyebrows, her mouth in a stubborn frown.

Slowly standing and dusting herself off, Korra limped up and out of the hole. In the midst of wondering how to explain this one to the team, one more terrible realization struck her.

"Aw, crap...

…I didn't pay my check."

*Why yes, I AM very proud of that sentence, thank you. (gets hit with a shoe)

********

[marthawrites]

Could you do inexperienced Aemond with an experienced partner

Teaching A Dragon New Tricks

Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 3.2k+

About: You and Prince Aemond have been giving each other eyes for some time now, and he finally makes the first move. After that, you feel comfortable showing him a few things. His drive for knowledge extends beyond books.

Includes: Aemond being a cute noobie (nerd), having an awakening to the magic of women, and explicit sexual content! Featuring male masturbation, vaginal fingering, and fem receiving oral.

Note: Hello lovely reader! My first ever request ahhhhh! This was seriously so much fun to think about and write. It's my first time writing this dynamic. I hope I did your request justice! As always, please enjoy! ♥

-

The first time Aemond kissed you he almost missed your lips. That’s not how any prince in the storybooks acted – they always knew how to make pretty maidens swoon. 

Surely Aemond’s misaim was a jest? Although… you’d never known, or witnessed, him being the jesting type. 

You looked up at him wide-eyed and surprised. You held your breath high in your throat, and Aemond must have too, judging by how his nostrils flared. Blood bloomed beneath his alabaster cheeks. His single eye desperately searched yours.

Had he misunderstood all of your shared experiences? Brief and in passing as some of them might have been? Had Aegon told him to “kiss her, brother. Why haven’t you yet? When you do, make sure to hold her throat like this and move your tongue through her mo–” he’d stopped listening at that point, blinking puzzlingly at the mental image of choking you for a kiss. He couldn’t imagine how that’d be enjoyable.

Yet, now he wondered if he should have done exactly what Aegon said.

“I– I’m sor–,” he started, taking half a step back. Embarrassment burned his pride.

You blinked, then, eyes sparkling with some sort of secret amusement. “Aemond Targaryen… dragon prince and rider of Vhagar…,” you said slyly. “Have you never kissed anyone before?”

If he blushed before, he damn near combusted with the absolute ease in which you read him. “Am I that obvious?”

A giggle answered his nervous question. Light, and airy, the sound full of magic like spring-pink flowers twirling in the wind. Were it anyone else you might have turned away with no intention of seeking a second. But, with Aemond? Since becoming a lady-in-waiting for Helaena you’d been smitten by him. You stepped forward, toe to toe with the tall, lithe, sheepish prince, and placed your hands on his chiseled face. “Let’s try that again, silly prince…,” you said before standing on your tippy toes to press your lips to his in a much more well-aimed kiss.

It was that day, in the soft sunbeams of Helaena’s empty bedchamber, that you showed Aemond the art of kissing until both of your lips were swollen. He learned wickedly fast.

-

After breaking fast it was a ritual for Helaena and her children to spend time in the gardens – rain or shine. Luckily it’d been sunny for a few days and last week’s downpour finally dried from the top soil. During these hours there never seemed to be a dull moment. You were sent off by the kids with nothing but a linen bag and a mission of finding bugs. They were putting together an insectarium and needed any and everything that crawled. It was a fun break. Fresh air and sunshine brought out the natural colors of your hair as it slowly loosened from its careful bun. 

Before you knew it you were away from the main crowds and pathways. Insects buzzed in the air; quiet and secluded. 

Just as you crouched down, a familiar voice called your name right when a jumping spider inspected your palm. “Shouldn’t you be training, my prince?” You asked as you looked over your shoulder to regard Aemond with your little bug friend.

If he cared about the spider he showed no sign of it. He crouched beside you and gently pushed you onto your back, grinning down at you like the trickster you were learning him to be. Sunlight hit his face and softened his otherwise sharp features. “Not with the sword. I’d rather train other things,” he said in a voice much too huskily. His mouth was on yours. With any luck the spider successfully jumped away and not into yours or his hair. “I haven’t stopped thinking about kissing you since the last time I did.”

For someone who literally just learned how to do that he was really good at it. A soft moan vibrated your lips against his. Your hands trailed up the front of his chest and neck, pushing away a stray bit of hair that tickled your collarbone. “Greedy prince…,” you giggled against his mouth, daring to nip his bottom lip.

“Perhaps you should have thought twice before showing me such things,” he replied. His free hand lifted to carefully lay over your throat; putting to first use the trick he learned from Aegon. Your reaction – arching beneath him – had his pupil swelling. "You like that?"

You nodded with a breathless smile. "Yeah. Not too hard though. It feels good just there," you purred, thighs pressing together as warmth built and collected in your core. The heavy kissing and exploring nibbles felt as if you were making up for lost time; Aemond One-Eye starved of affection. Muscles in your belly tightened and it took all you had to pull away from him, eyes dreamy and half-lidded. "Aemond… I want you to touch me. Please," your voice rasped. Wanton.

He looked at you curiously. "I am touching you," he answered, dipping to rub the tip of his nose against yours.

You fought another giggle. "No, my prince, I mean really touch me." You bent an elbow to lean up on it and carefully grabbed his hand with your other. In a guided trail, you swept his palm from your neck to your thigh and watched his expression all the while. "Have you ever pleasured a woman before?"

Color rose in his face, and even in the midmorning sun his pupil swelled. The strained tightness in the front of his trousers throbbed against where he leaned against you. "No," he half croaked. "Will… will you teach me like you did the other day with your kiss?" He squeezed your thigh with his question, marveling at the softness.

"Yes," you answered with an inward hiss. Gripping his wrist you added, "not here. Anyone could be around. And I am to be with princess Helaena all day. Tonight?"

"Not tonight. Now," he said. 

“I cannot just leave her and her children behind!”

Some might not believe it, but Prince Aemond had tiny dimples when he smirked. Dimples. He leaned into the crook of your neck and kissed, then bit, and kissed again. Goosebumps tickled his lips when he said, “good thing the princess is my sister and I’m not obliged to her law.” Without giving you a chance to protest he stood and pulled you to your feet. He guided you back to the main path and paid little mind to bystanders.

“Brother, where are you taking her?” Helaena asked once she saw the two of you – his arm wrapped around your back as if for support.

“I found her off the path. She’s fainted. I’m taking her to her room,” he replied swiftly; the dirt on your back making his lie appear genuine.

Once inside the Red Keep, instead of taking you in the direction of your sleeping quarters, he took you to his. You two were able to sneak inside and latch the door without anyone seeing. You'd been in here before, but never under these circumstances. Excitement fluttered in your core and when his mouth found yours again you buzzed with anticipation. "Someone is eager…," you muttered playfully against his lips.

"Says the maiden who's given into the carnal desires of flesh outside of wedlock," he scolded against the side of your neck, nipping. "You unholy creature."

You gasped at the sensation of his teeth. "You might be surprised to know things aren't as strict among the smallfolk as it is with you nobles," you whizzed in response. "I'm quite glad to be born where I was. You royals are so uptight." 

Through the banter Aemond led you towards his bed until the backs of your legs bumped against the edge of it. When you fell backwards with him above you, his silky pale hair like a curtain around your face, you wanted nothing else than to stay there for countless hours. "Are you going to keep babbling or show me how to make you feel good?" His smirk had an edge of darkness and you wondered if he was being entirely honest with you in regard to his experience.

Aemond wasn't lying. Truthfully, he hadn't any experience. That didn't mean he hadn't "accidentally" read about things here and there in sordid library books. And having Aegon as a brother meant he was victim to unsolicited advice and peer pressure often. The books were out of curiosity, whereas Aegon’s taunts were simply annoying. 

He had an idea of how things worked. Though, he never had the opportunity to act upon such things.

"Aemond… if you don't start doing something I think you'll drive me positively insane."

Following the passive command, his hand began slowly trailing up your leg. He pushed your skirts up as he did so, allowing the fabric to bunch up until it barely covered your smallclothes. His gaze shifted from between his hand and your face – eager to see your reaction. "Something like this, right?"

Against your will, you arched beneath him and grinned breathlessly. "Yeah," you replied. The scratch of his skin on yours had your core flexing with a need beyond your control. "A little higher still…," you said, smiling.

Shifting his weight, he laid on his side, now, able to look from your face to the space between your thighs that was becoming more and more exposed. The backs of his fingers brushed along your covered mound and you jolted, narrowly missing crashing your forehead to his chin. "Are you okay?"

Blushing, you squeaked, "yes." 

"Are you sure? You nearly headbutted me."

"Shh.. shut up!" You laughed, embarrassed. "Gods. Keep doing that, there, feels so good," you said as you pulled your skirts higher up your front. Intentional or not, his teasing made you, somehow, want him even more. "Actually… these are just in the way," you added, tugging your own underwear off.

He watched you with surprise in his eye. He'd never seen this side of you – or any woman, in that fact – and with each passing moment the prince felt an undiscovered part of himself roar to life. He liked it. Pulse drummed in his chest and behind his ears, and he had to steady his hand as he lowered it to cup your bare mound. Breath quickly hitched in his throat. "You're so warm," he whispered, shuddering. The pads of his fingers pressed curiously along the outside of your folds and he bit down on his own lower lip to stifle a sound he’d never quite made before. “And slick.”

You allowed the sound he bit back to flow freely from your throat. “Surely you know how it works…,” you teased, thighs opening more than they already were. “Women get wet where men get hard.” His touch was curious and inexperienced, yet something about it was endearing and made your belly tighten. When he grazed your clit you whimpered, melting into the mattress. “Right there,” you whispered thickly. “Is my pearl. It’s very sensitive and the center of a woman’s pleasure,” you added, voice and cheeks sultry alike.

The front of Aemond’s pants had never been tighter. He turned quickly off the bed to kneel at the end of it, pulling your legs until you were right where he wanted. His attention flickered between your face and that needy space between your thighs; glistening and pink with desire. One hand held you open while the thumb of the other grazed all over your parted slit, exploring. Soft wet sounds accentuated your panting. The pressure of his thumb shifted from firm to light, and he tested different types of strokes, tearing his focus from your cunt only to watch your face for your reaction. “Here?” He questioned, sliding over your swollen bud.

Your hands tightened in his bedding. A moan came from your slackened jaw and you nodded down at him, watching him observe you. “Yes.”

He circled it, slid across it, and stroked along it. The sounds you made shot right to his cock and made his head heavy as if he’d drank too much wine. In tandem with some of his motions he saw the way your little opening clenched and relaxed around nothing; arousal seeping out of you lewdly, pleadingly, driving him to the brink of madness. He throbbed in his pants. Without entirely realizing it, he opened the front of them to let his cock free. He sighed at the freeing sensation. He groaned something in High Valyrian, cuntdrunk at the sight of you spread open so prettily.

"Push a finger in. I want to feel you," you said down at him breathlessly, one of your hands moving to gently cup the side of his head. If you thought him roguishly dashing before, seeing him here and now, knelt and learning the ways of your body, made him tenfold. It was all too much. Aemond Targaryen, despite his virginity, might very well bring you to the height of pleasure. 

He did as instructed: thumb slipped easily into you and you both gasped at the same time. He'd never felt anything quite like the sensation of you. Warm – no, hot – slippery, and spongy.

"Oh fuck…," you moaned softly. The hand at the side of his head squeezed into his hair, practically tugging at his ear. "More, my prince, please. Try a different finger and move it around inside me." It was a surprise you could speak so clearly as lust blazed through your entire form.

Aemond slipped his thumb out and replaced it with his index. The moan that elicited from you sent him crazy. Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered reading something from somewhere: using one's mouth to get a woman ready for coupling. He hadn't a clue where, or how, or what, but before he could talk himself out of it his mouth was on you. If his touch felt good on your pearl, then surely his tongue might too. 

"Oh my Gods..! No.. you don't have to do that," you blushed, fingernails clawing into his scalp as you stared down at him dumbfounded. In your experience men rarely did this to women, and less enjoyed the act of it.

"Does it feel good?" He asked with sincerity, not wanting to hurt you with his inexperience. 

"Yes!"

He smirked and went back to it. Tongue and lips were tentative and unsure, as was his finger still pressed into you, but it hardly stopped you from finding both amusement and bliss in it. He licked all over your folds with the flat of his tongue; tang and salt and a hint of sweetness overtaking his senses. He hadn't a clue how he'd gone so long without experiencing this. Remembering what you said about moving his finger, he did just that. He swirled it around between your slick velvety walls and reveled in how you felt wrapped around his digit.

"Mmf…!" You panted, gripping tighter into his hair. "Keep doing that. With your tongue on my pearl, too," you simpered, the low muscles in your belly flipping and tightening.

The young prince was eager to listen and learn. He followed your instruction. He even dared to add his middle finger too, slowly moving and curling them around. You were so wet, and warm, and tight around him. If you felt like this around his fingers he could only imagine what you'd feel like around his cock. He moaned at the thought, lapping your clit with more confidence and enthusiasm.

You were trying so hard to keep your legs open and relaxed for him, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. For someone who claimed to never have done this before it still felt wonderful. Any time his mouth would begin to stray away from where you wanted him, you pushed him back where he needed to be. The combination of your gently rolling pelvis, pleasured sounds, and hold in his hair, kept him on track. Shifting your legs around a bit, you slung one over his shoulder. The slight change had him finding a spot along your walls that had you seeing stars. "Right there!" You preened, thighs squeezing to lock him in place. 

"Is it too much?" He asked, a little taken back with your sudden reaction to whatever it was he'd been doing. 

When you looked down at him you nearly lost it. Your arousal glossed his mouth and he looked, somehow, innocent and wild alike. "Yes! But no… keep going. Please don't stop," you whined, desperate, using your hand still tangled in his hair to guide him back down to you.

Even with his jaw aching for a break, he obeyed. He kept his fingers right there where you seemed to really like it, curling and massaging along a section that felt a little different than the rest of the area. He stayed on your bundle of nerves, too, flicking and lapping and relishing every single noise his attention pulled from you. His free hand pumped along his cock; aching and rigid and feeling like it could burst at any second. He moaned into you. He wasn't going to last. 

Pleasure peaked and your thighs squeezed around his head again. "Aemond!" You mewled at the top of your climax, the entirety of your womanhood pulsing and shuddering with release. 

He couldn't hold back his own release. Never before had he heard his name said like that or called out like that – never experienced the excitement of a spasming cunt. He spent himself as he groaned into you. The last spills of his seed dribbled down his fist while the earlier, more powerful, ropes already began to soak into his bedding.

Your thighs finally relaxed around him and you gently pushed his head away, too sensitive for more. A sheen of sweat collected on your forehead and you felt heat high in your cheeks. Blushed, panting, and satisfied, you looked down at Aemond with bright sparkling eyes. "I don't believe you. You had to have done all of that before."

Slick coated his mouth and chin. His single eye was black with more emotions than you could read and he looked damn near wicked. "More," be said greedily as he squeezed your thighs; already a man addicted.

What had you awoken in the dragon prince? Your chest rose and fell with labored breaths, eyes communicating more than your mouth was currently capable of.

Just then, a knock on his door broke both of you out of the post-orgasm stupor.

He cleared his throat and said, "what is it?" in only a slightly trembling voice.

"Prince Aemond, you are being summoned to the small council meeting."

Annoyance washed over him and he swallowed it with a sigh. "I will be there shortly."

When no other sound came from the door, he tucked himself away and stood from where he'd been kneeling. "You're lucky, my lady, to be off the hook." He grinned cheekily and self-satisfied. He offered his clean hand to help you up before going to wash the other along with his face.

"There's more I can show you another time, if you'd like," you said as you straightened your garb to return to regular duties – as if Aemond hadn't just given you one of the best, if a bit clumsy, orgasms. "You're a very fast learner."

"We can continue to put that to the test," he said with a dark glimmer behind his eye. His angular features were sly in a way you'd never seen before, and you wondered what sort of things simmered in his mind.

-

taglist: to be added or removed, please say something ♥

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow and/or reblog and/or letting me know! It would make me vvvery happy ♥ If you have an idea I'm open to hearing requests!

Here is my masterlist

@melsunshine @iiamthehybrid @arcielee @nina2697 @darylandbethfanforever9 @sahvlren @targaryenbrainrot @bellaisasleep @watercolorskyy @ruby-dragon @aemonds-fire @meggiemay82 @doublesparrows @silverwinged @nikstrange @castellomargot @lost-and-founds @chompchompluke

[longlistshort]

Helen Lundeberg, “Interior with Two Paintings”, 1982, acrylic on canvas

Room with sculpture by Chakaia Booker, “The Privilege of Eating”, 2012, rubber tires, wood, shovel

Max Neumann, “Untitled”, 1986, oil on linen

Liza Lou, “Dog”, 2002, glass beads on fiberglass and plaster

Ori Gersht, “Against the Tide, Diptych Monks”, 2010, archival pigment print on aluminum

There’s a lot of exceptional work on view for A Shadow Set Free, the group exhibition at Palm Springs Art Museum. Above are a few of the standouts, as well as one of two walls on which numerous works are grouped together.

From the museum about the exhibition and its theme-

A Shadow Set Free presents a selection of sculpture, photography, painting, drawings and prints from roughly the last 100 years. Though very different in style, subject matter and historical context, the works are united in their ability to evoke a sense of memory and convey an otherworldly aura.

The artists forgo an interest in the bright light of objective reality in favor of creating dream worlds, maintaining a rootedness in everyday reality while remaining free from specific histories. Together they demonstrate the various ways that modern and contemporary art imbues the familiar, external world with a spirit of subjectivity.

This exhibition closes 8/4/24.

[illumiera]

WIP Wednesday

thank you for the tags, @theoneandonlysemla, @sanza-17, @sulphuricgrin, @lathez, @elavoria, and @pinessydr! 💖

this week, I have both a writing and an art WIP to share! first, an excerpt from the next chapter of i fear no fate (for you are my fate), featuring Elentari and Miraak having something of a Realisation:

“All this time, I thought it was a god,” he whispers, and far from breaking, the spell shivering around them strengthens so that his hushed words come rushing out in one breathless flood. “Dibella, I thought, because—because I saw—because how could it not have been—” And then he opens his close-clasped hands to reveal the familiar object sitting between his palms, and her heart leaps into her throat as her gaze alights on the tiny wooden statuette she’d found hidden in the breast pocket of his ruined robes. “I carved—I carved this for her, you see, in the image of the one who saved me, and it was her face, hers and no other, that I held in my mind whenever I worshipped in her name.” Miraak extends his hands to her, his palms up as though in offering. With renewed care, Elentari accepts the little figurine and brings it to her chest so as to look upon it with fresh and half-disbelieving eyes. She is nowhere near so vain—and nowhere near so blasphemous, she who kneels, perfumed and smiling, at the lily-strewn altar whenever her duties take her to stony Markarth—as to presume herself an equal in beauty to the Queen of Heaven, but as she sees for the first time her likeness in the statuette’s delicate form, she wonders how she ever managed not to notice it before. It’s there—she’s there—in the loose-curled waves of hair adorned with a tumble of impossibly dainty flowers, and in the small, dimpled smile that curves the full lips like a bow. She’s even there in the lyre the goddess holds in her slender, fine-boned hands, for its near-twin, her own beloved instrument, perches on a shelf just across the room. There are some stories, Elentari knows, that speak of how Dibella appears with silver moth’s wings billowing behind her, or as blind as love itself, or in an aspect as rose-golden as a summer sunrise, clad in shimmering pink silks, and trailing lotuses and lilies and sweet spring blooms with every step. Other accounts suggest that when she shows herself to mortals, she does so as a shapeshifter of sorts, her image the embodiment of whatever the viewer finds most lovely in all the world: no matter whether she comes clothed or bare, slight or plump, aglow with youth or bright with wisdom, there are tales upon tales of the devout being driven to tears of joy from a single glimpse. Whatever the truth is, she saved a drowning boy who became a man who took her features for those of his goddess and carved them into wood. He carved them into wood, into a statuette the size of a secret, and carried it beside his heart for four thousand years, through the worst of the cult, through the depths of Apocrypha, through death and resurrection, through time itself. Her, all along.

...and then I also have an updated WIP of my drawing of these two as Klimt's "The Kiss", because Ellie is now fully lined and I just have Miraak (and his big ol' mane of hair) to do before I can get to colouring:

no-pressure tags: @kiir-do-faal-rahhe @lilarus @miraakulous-cloud-district @bostoniangirl21 @madam-whim @bougainvillea-and-saltwater!

[razorblade180]

9 days of Lancaster Day 1: Training

Ruby considered herself an honest girl. Maybe a light fib every once and awhile but she really tried speaking her mind often! She meant it when she said she wishes to be a normal girl with normal knees. However, as Jaune flipped her onto a sparring mat, the next words out of her mouth made her wish seem like a lie.

Ruby:I am better than this outcome! I’m a natural born fighter, so why is this so hard!

Jaune:You really weren’t kidding about your hand to hand skills. I’m not even good.

Ruby:Lies! We all can’t be roommates with a ninja and learn cool skills!

Jaune:Yeah but…YOU have a ninja roommate.

Ruby:….

Jaune:…And a martial arts sis-

Ruby:Shut up! *springs up* Again! I’m focused! I will get you.

Jaune:Ren said most things come down to balance and timing. Try not rush this.

Ruby:I’d like to point out my weapon gives me reach and an immaculate pace. Without it you’re like two of me.

Jaune:Yeah but you’re amazing. I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it soon enough.

Ruby:Your kindness has no effect on me.

Jaune:Pin me and I will buy lunch. If you lose then you do it.

Ruby:You’re on!

Without hesitation, a flying kick went past Jaune’s head. He barely had time to put his hands up to block a flurry of tiny but rapid fists.

The pressure was short lived when Jaune threw a punch that forced Ruby to weave. Darn his long arms! She put all her concentration into bobbing left and right, successfully avoiding slower but powerful blows as she worked the ring. Lunch was on the line and it wasn’t looking too good for her. She had to really think about her attacks. She was faster but Jaune was no slouch. It all comes down to timing.

Ruby noticed his right shoulder move back and began ducking as Jaune sent a right hook. As she ducked, Ruby made her move; a right uppercut was headed his way then immediately pulled back as he went to block. The faint worked! Ruby twisted her body into a left jab aimed right for his face! Unfortunately, the blow failed spectacularly. Jaune raised his right palm and caught it! No way he predicted that! Ruby immediately went for right but was once again caught and both arms were raised above her head. She refused to give up her free lunch!

Both of them made their move. Ruby went to knee him with her right but wasn’t expecting him to lean her body backwards. She quickly lost balance and her leg was caught with his left hand as her wrists became pinned by his right against a wall. She hadn’t even noticed how far back they moved during the fight. Did he purposely lead her over here!? The proud but surprised smile on his face told her yes. Ruby couldn’t help but pout as he chuckled.

Ruby:Ren has taught you too much.

Jaune:Lunch is on you today.

Ruby:This is clearly a draw.

Jaune:Rubes, you’re pinned.

Ruby:Last time i checked, your arms are full. Looks like we both can’t properly attack. I call that a draw~

She confidently huffed. That was until their little stare down slowly grew closer.

Jaune:You really think I’m out of moves?

Ruby:Pr-Prove me wrong.

Why was she stuttering? Now was not the time to show weakness to the enemy! Cobalt eyes grew ever larger as they got closer to pools of silver. The grip on her wrists became a bit more firm, as well as his fingers behind her knee. Escaping the pin suddenly felt more like a suggestion than a need, and Ruby was so thrown off right now all she could think to do was close her eyes and wait for his “attack”

After what felt like an eternity, a soft press against her forehead connected with his own before leaving. Suddenly her limbs were free and she felt his presence back off. Ruby opened her eyes to see her friend looking completely the other way with his ears as red as her cape l; and her face at this point.

Jaune:See? I could’ve headbutted you.

Ruby:Y-Yeah…right. I can’t argue with that. *rubs head* Lunch is on me.

Jaune:Let’s call it here. Also… I will but dessert.

He briskly runs off, leaving Ruby to stew in the moment. She didn’t know what was worse; that he might’ve been going for a headbutt from the start but she clearly puckered up, or the fact she could still feel his grip on her. Either way, she was dying inside.

Ruby:(Why does hand to hand have to be so close?!)

[thank-you-doggo]

"Its for You." (Finding Frankie OC POV Story {Pt 2}

"Oh my gosh, holy... hes purring, oh my god hes purring." You say to yourself as the giant phone man before you starts making content "Briiing... Briiiing...~" noises as you stand before him and pet him. Youre pretty much letting your inner "hug every mascot you see" energy come out almost. Davi Henric Dial is sitting before you, holding your wrist that was resting on his cheek, and he actually just tips his head to a certain direction and you pet under his chin again, and he melts. His knees let themselves touch the ground and you wonder some things now, still kinda taken aback by how big he was, when not angered he's basically a big softie, thank the lord. What seems to really catch you off guard was another set of arms you somehow didnt notice before were resting on the ground that came from Davis back. Davi tipped his head down a little as you brush the side of his face with your fingers, even though hes a toy phone...Hes got a strong jaw, you could feel it through his face. You get freaked out by the thought of him possibly sinking his teeth into somebody, His teeth were the size of you at least, imagine those things crushing your head, it freaked you out, you hold your hands out as you attempt to shake off those thoughts. His eyes slit into being half open like they usually are in most of the art you see of him, and he rests his huge head in your palms, not the reaction you expected, but who are you to complain? Either it was just you or something, but the underside of his head felt warm, maybe its cause of the fact that its closer to his body then everything else? the sweet phone makes a static noise as his eyebrows furrow a little, and he sits up and holds his head as a terrible headache spell suddenly fell upon him as the phone on his head started to ring obnoxiously loud, it hurt YOUR ears, you could only imagine what it was doing to him. He snarls as he held his head to ease the pain, his claws actually digging into the top of his head, the other arms clawing into the ground. "Woah, woah, easy big guy..!" You say, trying to soothe the giant phone from flying off the rails, It was going so good moments ago, why now? You flinch as he jumped up and growls, gritting his teeth, making those rainbow sparks fly. You feel sorry for him, and he springs up to his feet and a crack starts to form under his chin, you could hear another contestant, alright, so maybe you're NOT the last one alive...wh- Theres maybe a split second of stalled silence, before the underneath of Davis head split open, before Davi unhinges his jaws and actually snaps his teeth apart, stretching the foundations of his Phone face, the sight made you go pale, showing his flat teeth were hiding something sinister. A pretty frightening glowing inner mouth, tongue and all, with sharp teeth in rows. The thing that somehow scared you the most about this horrific transformation was the fact he had a Secondary mouth with a long dark blueish periwinkle tongue comes out, the atomic rainbow glow in the back of his throat was apparent, And he flies into a frenzy and smashes through a couple walls, the contestant that rang that phone is a goner. He lunges at you after he caught the contestant, his teeth shreading through them like butter, Do you have a plan? yes, Is it gonna work? Probably not, Is this stupid? Oh yeah, definitely. He misses you as you sidestepped, and as he stands up...he seems to have lost you, somehow? Youre under his head now, like below his chin. "Where are you...." He growls, you almost wanna laugh, as scared as you were, and you cover your mouth through the contestant mask, youre currently right in front of his knees, even though your hearts pounding, it was kinda funny. You do have to move though, youre fully aware of how he could easily kill you with one swift kick of his powerful legs, so you do the smartest thing to can do. You walk...directly below him. Having the bend down so you dont bump your head on him. You slip out from behind him, his tailcoat touching your back and veiling over you a little as now youre behind him.

[simplyalicee]

☆ Your Darling ☆

Nutcracker AU by @sketchquill

Idea: Inspired by Sketch's recent art for their Nutcracker AU! You and Wally are out in the spring fields, simply enjoying your time together with one another. As you spend more time with him, you come to the realization that just perhaps, you are catching feelings for him.

Just a lighthearted, happy indulging fanfic <33 Warning for insane amounts of fluff and love!!

I know nothing about the Nutcracker, but enjoy!!

♡------------♡

Somewhere out there laid a beautiful piece of land that had yet to be touched by civilization. There was perfect weather; it's not too hot, not too cold, just right. There was a gentle breeze that would occasionally flow by, but even then, it felt nice and refreshing. No wonder why the spring fairies here adored this part of the world. You could even say it was perfect. No- it was perfect. But what made it even better, however, was having your friend accompany you.

"It's quite beautiful out, isn't it?" Wally spoke to you, smiling as he saw that you were still admiring the view in front of you.

"Oh, absolutely. It's nothing like I've ever seen."

You took a few steps in front of you, glancing around the trees that had colorful green leaves. You had mixed feelings. It was unfortunate that you never got to see nature at its full bloom, and yet, you were thankful that parts of the world like here were left untouched. You tried not to dwell on it and instead admire what was in front of you. You felt Wally take your hand into his. You turn your attention to him, seeing his signature smile that always left you breathless.

"I just remembered, there was something I wanted to show you."

You grew curious at what Wally wanted to show you. Was it a surprise, perhaps?

"Oh? Was is it?" You asked, tilting your head. Wally shook his head.

"It's a surprise! Close your eyes..."

Oh, of course. He wants you to close your eyes. Not that you minded, of course, but it was only driving your curiosity crazy. You closed your eyes, smiling as you grew excited. Although you couldn't help but notice that his grip on your hand grew a little bit tighter. You heard his faint laughter as he took you somewhere. You kept your eyes closed, but you only wondered what could the surprise be. Perhaps it was baked goods? Oh, how delicious that would be. But you don't smell any sweets nearby. Hm.

Wally stopped in his tracks, making you stop as well. He lets go of your hand and takes a step aside.

"Alright, Y/N, you may now open your eyes."

With permission granted, you opened your eyes.

..This was possibly the best surprise you could've asked for.

What stood in front of you was an open area that was surrounded by varies types of flowers. They ranged from sunflowers to daises, all up to roses and marigold. How he knew about your interest in flowers was beyond you. How could you ever repay him for such a generous gift?

"Wally, they're beautiful... did you plant these yourself?" You asked with great curiosity as you turned your head to him. Wally shook his head and chuckled.

"No, but she did." He reached his hand out in front of him. You grew confused for a moment, but you were quick to meet a spring fairy that swooped down from the tree above. She landed on Wally's hand, smiling brightly as she took a bow.

"Why, of course it was me! Who else could plant such beautiful flowers other than I, Sally Starlet?" Sally spoke with pride. You chuckled softly as you approached Sally, being careful to not startle her with your approach. She looked up at you as she stood in Wally's palm, it seemed as if she was examining you.

"Hmm... you look awfully a lot like someone who Wally's been talking about." She blurted, which both surprised you and Wally. Your eyes widened as Wally quickly turned his head away.

"Huh? Wally has been talking about me?" How can you process something like this? Not that you were taking it the wrong way, but it definitely caught you off guard. But for some reason, your heart fluttered from her words.

"Indeed, he has! I must say, fellow stranger, you are one lucky friend." Sally beamed with happiness. She took a step forward towards you with her fluttering wings.

"I'd love to chat more, but I have other plans to attend to. Until then, I hope to see your shining smile!"

Sally flew out of Wally's hand and towards your direction. To your surprise, she flew a few circles around you, heading up as she did so. You laughed happily as some of her pixie dust stuck to your pajamas. You watched as Sally flew away to the right of you, possibly headed to grow more plants.

Once Sally left, you looked over at Wally, seeing that he was still looking away from you. You tilted your head with a bit of confusion, yet you still smiled.

"Are you alright, Wally?" You asked him in curiosity. He looks back at you. He smiled back, but you couldn't help but notice a little bit of color on his cheeks.

"Fine as I'll ever be, Y/N. I was just in deep thought is all."

You both stared at each other for a moment. You wanted to say something, but there was just something about him. You didn't know what it was, but you couldn't look away. You both just gazed at each other, staring into each other's eyes. You felt your heart flutter, the heat forming on your face was quickly becoming noticeable. Wally placed a hand on his cheek as he gazed at you. He let out a content sigh as his smile grew. Your heart couldn't stay still, what was happening? You never felt this way before. It felt strange yet familiar.

Familiar because this wasn't the first time you felt this way for him, but strange because it is something you never felt for anyone else but him.

The longer you stared, the more flustered you became. After a few moments, you turned your head from Wally and chuckled nervously.

"I, uhm..." You tried to speak, but you were left a stuttering mess. You heard Wally laugh a bit, he took your hand into his and held it. Stop it, heart, stay still. But it disobeyed, leaving you with a fluttering heart and a sense of... comfort.

"The flowers weren't your only surprise," Wally told you.

"Wait, what?" Your eyes widened a bit. You felt the grasp he had on your hand tighten a little bit, making your face heat up a bit more.

Wally took a deep breath as he took a small step closer to you.

"I would like to dance with you, Y/N," he spoke with an excited tone.

You didn't know how to quite process it. You wanted to dance with him, you really did. But you were unsure. You have never danced before.

"Wally, wait. I don't know how to dance," You responded with a small frown.

"That's okay, I will teach you!" Wally smiled brightly at you.

You were still unsure, but that smile... You couldn't bring yourself to reject such an offer. With a sigh, you smiled nervously and nodded. Wally giggled happily, he was quite overjoyed to be dancing with you!

"Alright, we'll take it slow. Just follow my lead, Y/N." He spoke softly.

Wally let go of your hand and gently turned you around. After turning you around, he gently took both your hands and raised your arms up. You glanced over at him, locking eye contact with him again. Wally smiled softly at you.

"You're doing wonderful so far," he said happily to you. Oh, how nervous but excited you were. Wally lifted one arm up. You stood on your toes, slowly lifting one of your legs up.

"I think I get it, now," you whispered to yourself. As if on cue, Wally twirled you around slowly. You twirled for a short moment, giggling with joy. You placed your raised leg down and stopped twirling, now being side to side to him with his hand on your upper waist. You extended your right arm out for him, to which he took your hand softly. He extended his arm out, keeping your hand held. You had your other hand on his shoulder. You weren't as nervous as you were before, but now that nervous feeling was replaced with the feeling of butterflies in your stomach. Wally had a huge smile curled up on his face as he lead the slow dance. The both of you slowly spun each other around.

As you both danced, you couldn't help but look into his eyes. Wally laughed softly, being so happy that he was dancing with you.

"Awh, Y/N, you have no idea how much this means to me!" Wally sounded like he was geniunely happy to be given the opportunity to dance with you. Seeing his smile, hearing his joy, it made you feel more butterflies.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Stutters again, when will they ever go away? It was okay, however. Wally understood, he wasn't judging. He was just happy to spend time with you. The way he held onto you, being so caring and gentle. The dance lasted for a few more minutes before you both parted. Despite being unsure earlier, you were glad to be able to have this dance with Wally.

"Thank you for the dance, Wally," You spoke.

"Not a problem, Y/N. I am always happy to teach you!"

You couldn't help but smile, the fuzzy feeling only escalating. Your heart fluttered, your face flushed, you couldn't help but feel like this. You and Wally end up gazing into each other's eyes once more, the obvious tension in the air that you were oblivious to. You watched as his face turned brighter in color, was he blushing? You thought it was adorable to witness.

"Did you, uhm... enjoy the dance, Y/N?" Wally looked away, asking in a nervous tone.

"I did, actually. It was very... very nice." You replied, chuckling softly.

It was at that moment that you realized that maybe, just maybe, you liked Wally more than just as a friend. Had you been that oblivious, or were you just too shy to admit it? Probably both. And unfortunately, it became awkward between the two of you. You weren't sure why, but-

"Y/N, there is something I have been meaning to tell you," Wally spoke quickly, you could hear him taking a deep breath.

"I think I have something to tell you, too, actually," You responded, becoming more flushed. Were you wanting to confess just after a moment of realizing your crush on Wally? Yes, absolutely.

Wally looked back at you, a bit stunned by your response. He smiled softly, evident that he was nervous, but wished to hear you first.

"Go on, Y/N. What is it that you want to tell me?" Wally took a small step forward to you, which made you more flustered.

"O-Oh, uhm... Well, it's kind of hard to find the right words..." You stammered, looking away for a moment. You were so nervous to admit your feelings.

"It's okay, Y/N. Please, take your time," He spoke gently, taking your hand into his to comfort you. You looked back at Wally with a flustered look. He saw your expression, thinking he might've made you uncomfortable. He was about to let go of your hand, but you gently gripped his hand from letting go. Wally looked down at your intertwined hands, a smile curled up on his lips. He let out a gentle sigh, content with the situation.

However, you couldn't keep it in any longer.

"Wally, I really like you,"

"Y/N, I really like you,"

You... both confessed to each other. At the same time? How was that possible? You and Wally both looked at each other, eyes widened with surprise.

"Wally, what did you say...?" You asked softly, taking a step closer to him. Wally tripped over his words for a moment, but he found the courage to speak it up again.

"Y/N, I... I really like you," He spoke quietly. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't bring himself to.

You felt tears in your eyes, and your heart swelled with joy. You wanted to cry just from how happy you were. You couldn't help it, you ran up to Wally and threw your arms around him in a tight embrace. Wally was caught off guard but was quick to embrace you, cradling you in his arms.

"Y/N-"

"I love you, Wally," You whispered, hugging him tighter, but not too tight to avoid accidentally hurting him. Wally stood quiet for a moment, his eyes widened as he tried to process what you just said.

He finally said, "I love you, too, Y/N... so, so much."

You both held onto each other for what felt like hours. You didn't want to let go, but you knew at some point that you had to let go. You both enjoyed each other's embrace before slowly pulling away. You looked at Wally in the eyes, admiring him without the need to hide it. Wally's smile only grew larger. He placed his hand on your cheek, caressing it gently. You leaned into his touch. You felt your heart skip a beat when Wally leaned in to kiss you on the forehead.

And in return, you grinned and leaned in to kiss him on the lips. Wally was caught by surprise, but closed his eyes and happily kissed you back. You both held onto each other, enjoying the moment as you kissed each other dizzy. After a few moments, you both pulled away, as flustered as you've ever been.

Then you heard his laugh. Oh, his laughter... It was like music to your ears. You couldn't help but laugh along with him. You took his hand into yours, holding it. You felt him gently squeeze your hand.

This was your special place, now. And the best part was that you had Wally by your side.

Your loving, adoring Wally Darling.

♡------------♡

HEHEHEHEHEHHE <333 I HOPE you all enjoy this writing I did :> Wally loves you!!

also posting this in school lol hi